Anywhere but in Between
by snoopygubs
Summary: Ginny and Harry begin to wonder if they will be each other's saving grace, as Hermione searches for the balance that has been missing and Ron realizes it's not too late to become the man he wants to be.
1. Walking Away

Author's Note: The characters and previous actions of said characters are the sole property of J.K. Rowling. The plot is mine.

**Anywhere but in Between**

_After the war, Harry leaves everything he knows to heal. Ginny begins to understand her place in the world, and Hermione searches for the balance that has been missing from her life. Ron realizes it's not too late to become the man he wants to be._

**Chapter 1 – Walking Away**

The war was over. Percy Weasley and Albus Dumbledore were gone, along with many others. There really wasn't anything left to do.

Except get on the train. And he couldn't quite get up the courage to do it just yet.

"'Scuse me son," said a kind voice from behind him suddenly. "Are you boarding?"

Harry Potter turned around and took in the man's warm, lined face. He nodded slowly and picked up his bag.

"You're packed awful light. Is this a short trip?" the man inquired lightly.

"No," said Harry, spinning around to step onto the train.

"Where you headed, son?" the man asked, this time his voice low and soft, as if he could sense Harry needed it to be so.

Harry's mind, without his permission, began to flash over all of the things that had been lost to him and all that he was leaving behind.

He didn't turn around as he answered.

"I don't know."

_A Year Later_

"Hermione, you said you'd be off this weekend. Ginny will be crushed if you can't make it to her graduation," argued Ron as he squared off against his best friend in the living room of her flat in London.

Hermione glared at him. "I told you, I just can't switch my rounds. That's not the way it works at the hospital. I can't change things because I have somewhere to be. This is the way it's always been done, and I'm so sorry that I can't be there."

"Don't apologize to me, Hermione," Ron fumed. "Ginny is the one that - "

"I already apologized to her," Hermione cut him off. "She's okay with it and she understands."

"You might want to reconsider your career choice seeing as how you've missed out on several things you swore you'd make it to. I mean, I knew you were smart, but I never thought of you as the kind of person who would sacrifice her friends for her career." Ron began pacing, trying to work off his anger.

He didn't quite understand why this was bothering him so much, but it was something greater than him. He was mad, and he didn't know what to do about it.

Hermione appeared to be having the same problem. She stood across from him, her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed.

"I can't believe you would say something like that to me," she spat, taking a slight step toward him. "You know how hard I have to work this first year. They only take five students in the program, and the first time you mess up you are gone. This is something I want, and I didn't think I'd have to explain that to you."

Ron glared back at her. All of the frustrations of the past two years came boiling up to the surface. Harry had fled his friends and only wrote letters once every other month or so, and they were brief and unrevealing.

They usually only reported that he was fine and that he missed everyone, but needed a bit more time. Ron didn't even know where he was, and it was beginning to infuriate him because there was nothing he could do.

His house had become a lifeless place where people moved about not speaking about the one thing that they all wanted to talk about. Percy's death had changed them all, and Fred and George had moved out very soon after.

Ron had stayed at home after he graduated Hogwarts to try and be of some help to his parents, but he found himself sinking into a dull routine whose only purpose was to distract him long enough to not have to think about anything.

Ginny's last year at school had been hard on her, especially without Dumbledore there. She had been in the room with Harry when Dumbledore had burst in to even the numbers against the Death Eaters that had remained at their master's side.

Lucious Malfoy had struck down Dumbledore just as Harry cursed Voldemort, and Ginny hadn't been the same ever since. She had written home sporadically, but her letters, like Harry's, had been short and distant.

That was why the graduation party was so important, Ron realized. He, and the rest of the family, wanted to give Ginny something to smile about for a change. It was, after all, supposed to be a joyous occasion.

Ron mentally shook himself and his shoulders sagged. He didn't have the energy to argue with Hermione any longer. She was off trying to move up in the ranks of St. Mungo's healers program as quickly as she could, and she rarely had time for him.

It might have been slightly acceptable if Ron still had Harry around to be his best mate, but Harry had abandoned him as well.

Suddenly, Ron felt extremely tired. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I understand, Hermione. I really do. I just thought it would be nice to all be together again, this time for a happy occasion," he said.

Hermione's body literally twitched at his words. She was feeling guilty, and even though that wasn't his intention, he couldn't help feeling the slightest bit of satisfaction.

He knew she was thinking of the last time they'd all been together. His parents had hosted a small gathering after Percy's funeral, and although people didn't stay much later than an hour or two, there had been something comforting about just being in the same room with each other.

Hermione hadn't left his side that night, alternately holding his hand or linking her arm through his. He hadn't admitted it to himself until a few months after, but the contact she'd maintained with him all night had kept him from coming apart.

Hermione held his gaze for a long moment, and he could see the wheels in her mind begin to spin.

"I'll ask if there is another resident who can switch weekends with me, but I'm not sure there will be anyone who can. Can you accept that?" she asked quietly.

Ron gave her a small smile. "Yeah, I can. Thanks, Hermione. You don't know how happy that makes...Ginny," he said. His eyes faltered from hers, and he ran his hand through his hair again. "When will you know by?" he asked, more for something to say than anything.

Hermione smiled back at him. "Tomorrow after work. I'll owl you at the office."

Ron thought of his day of pushing papers around his desk at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He hadn't graduated with the grades to pursue becoming an Auror, but he was happy where he was for now. He didn't have too much responsibility yet, and that suited him just fine.

He'd had his fill of dark, evil things for a while, and he was fine with securing the home base while others went into the field. He got paid well enough, and he got to see his father from time to time. Unlike Hermione, he wasn't in any rush to climb the ranks.

"Okay." He turned to leave her flat, but she stopped him with her next words.

"Did you get a letter from Harry this week?" she inquired.

He faced her, a curious look in his eyes. "No, why, did you?"

She shook her head sadly, her eyes now downcast. "No. I just thought I'd ask, I mean, you never know -" she trailed off.

He sighed and for the second time that day, anger pulsed through his veins. This time, it was focused on his other best friend, who was completely absent from their lives and didn't think much of that.

"You know I'd let you know if I got a letter from him," he said gently.

"Yes, I suppose I do," she replied quietly. "I just don't know why he can't let us at least know where he is and what he's doing. It's driving me crazy."

"Me too."

At his admission, her eyes came up to meet his, and they remained focused on each other for a long moment. Suddenly, Hermione walked forward and put her arms lightly around his waist.

He breathed in quickly, silently, and allowed the warmth of her to travel over him. No one had hugged him in a very long time, and the contact made him feel calmer and safer than he had since the war had begun.

She released him shortly after, and smiled up at him. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay. I'm really going to try and get out of my rounds."

"I know you will, but it's okay if you can't. I was just venting before, and I didn't mean to take it out on you," he admitted.

She laughed then, and he stared at her in confusion.

"What's so funny?"

"You. Apologizing. It still catches me off guard whenever you do it," she said, trying to hide her smile behind her hand.

He didn't care, though. It had also been so long since he'd heard her laughing that he was starting to think he'd forgotten what it sounded like.

Now it all came back to him.

He felt the familiar tug in his gut and willed himself to brush it away. All of that had been dealt with long ago as far as he was concerned, and he couldn't let it come back. Things were much better as they were.

"Talk to you tomorrow, then," he said lightly, reaching for his coat.

"Goodnight, Ron."

"Goodnight," he said, letting himself out. Once the door closed behind him, he shrugged on his coat and made his way down the stairs and out into the cold night air.


	2. Deafening Silence

**Anywhere but in Between**

Same as before. Nothing but the plot belongs to me.

**Chapter 3 – Deafening Silence**

Ginny wearily sank onto her seat on the trolley car and sighed a great sigh of relief. She'd had to sprint to catch the car, and she wasn't in as good of shape as she was last year when she'd been at school playing Quidditch.

She searched her bag for her mother's latest letter and found it pushed all the way to the bottom. As she scanned the news, she mentally added up the months it had been since she'd seen her family, or her friends.

_Eleven and counting_, she thought to herself in amazement. It wasn't that she didn't want to visit, she'd just been so busy with the Ministry's training program for the Department of Magical Games and Sports that she hadn't had the time to keep in touch as closely as she should have.

She laughed when she came to the third paragraph, and excused herself when the lady in front of her turned around a bit muffed.

_Fred and George have decided to discontinue the Disappearing Dermishes line, if as you'd recall I specifically warned them would fail miserably, due to the petty shoplifting that resulted as a part of their customers vanishing. Your father has decided that the lesson was good enough for them, but I disagree. I speak about it as often as I can._

Ginny smiled at her mother's words, missing her very much suddenly. She always missed her mother, but somehow, almost being able to see Molly Weasley lecturing her twin sons made her ache to be at home again.

She put the letter on her lap as she rested her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. Their family had been through so much, and yet they all seemed to be trying to find their way through it. Ginny realized that her course of action may not have been the absolute best option, but she didn't regret it and it was the only thing she'd felt she could do.

She turned her head to look out the window and watch as the Bulgarian countryside sped by. She didn't regret her choice when she saw what an amazing opportunity this was for her. She was just starting to miss seeing the familiar faces of home.

Her letters from Luna and Hermione had been full of their news, but they didn't mention the others, which led her to believe that everyone was beginning to strike out a bit on their own. Hermione's letters, once filled with news about Ron, Neville, Ernie, Luna and her parents, were now chatty commentaries of the rigors of her Healer's Resident program. She seemed to be doing amazingly well, for as much as Ginny could read into Hermione's carefully crafted list of her accomplishments. Ginny was so proud of her, and couldn't wait to see the new flat she was able to afford on her new salary.

The only thing that was pointedly not going to show up was news of Harry.

No one's letters mentioned him, almost as if everyone came to a silent agreement that if Harry weren't around, he wouldn't want to be discussed, either. Ginny sighed, closing her eyes once again in exhaustion.

It was one of the reasons she left. She couldn't deal with the heavy feeling of waiting that hung about everything at home. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something, anything, to happen to make everything alright again, and it had only taken Ginny three weeks to realize she couldn't start her life like this. She missed Harry as much as everyone else, and she missed Percy every morning when his owl delivered her morning news. She just couldn't let them be the reason she stopped trying.

Her chest began to tighten, and she immediately tried to regulate her breathing. Being in that room with Harry, Voldemort and the Death Eaters when Dumbledore had come after them, had shaken her in places she was still discovering. It had been nothing like her first year, which had been horrible in its own right; it had been so much worse. Seeing that destruction, that pure of a hatred flowing from people into others had taken Ginny's faith in humanity and smashed it to pieces.

In a way, she almost didn't blame Harry for wanting to be a bit anonymous for a while, but she couldn't understand why he wouldn't even just answer their questions as to how he was doing.

The car slowed down and she sighed quietly as her breathing slowed to a normal pace. There was a blissful moment where Ginny's mind cleared enough to focus on the good things in her life.

"Excuse me, miss, is this seat taken?"

Ginny opened her eyes to the woman's voice, and just beyond her right shoulder, she saw a shock of black hair take the seat across the aisle.

The blissful moment of clarity erupted as the woman sat beside her and Ginny was left blinking into the astonished eyes of Harry Potter.

She did the only thing she could think to do at this particular moment.

She picked up her bag, and ran for the doors as if her life depended on it.


	3. Thinking Of Home

**Anywhere but in Between**

Same as always. I don't own anything but the plot.

**Chapter 3 – Thinking of Home**

Harry was having a horrible day. More so than usual, and that was saying a lot.

He had woken up late, entirely throwing off his normal, daily schedule. He skipped breakfast to try and make up for some lost time, which had him cranky and hungry. He'd missed his usual trolley, causing him to take a line he wasn't accustomed to. When he'd finally arrived at the little Quidditch supply store he worked at, he'd been thoroughly reprimanded by his boss and was issued his second, and last, warning about such behavior. He had also been advised, strongly and without much sympathy, to work through his lunch hour to make up for his tardiness.

Harry's stomach grumbled in loud protest as he recalled the events of his day. He was now walking to meet his trolley, cursing under his breath at the impending dark clouds that signaled more rain.

Usually he didn't mind the temperamental weather of Bulgaria. He was used to poor conditions, having lived in England for so long, but the rain they'd been receiving for the past week was starting to turn his mood as cloudy as the skies.

He had debated stopping for a bite to eat before making his trolley, but everything within him screamed to make it home, bar the door, eat and then sleep clear until morning.

He knew exactly why he was so touchy and unfocused, and the thoughts running through his head did nothing to ward off the intense headache he felt coming on. His sleep had been haunted by the images and memories, and he had woken up several times throughout the night trying to push them as far out of his mind as he could.

A large woman was sitting at the trolley stop when he arrived, and Harry took a seat next to her. She gave him a small smile of greeting, which he did not return. It wasn't that he wanted to be rude; he just wasn't sure if he remembered how to go about smiling in the first place. It was safer to not even try.

His eyes stared off into the distance, over the small hill that led back into the village. Today was the day that the seventh years would be graduating from Hogwarts. He'd been out of school for two years. He'd been away from home and all of his friends for two long, lonely years.

The war had been over for two years.

For about the millionth time, he wondered if he should go home, back to everything and everyone that meant anything to him. For the millionth time, he dismissed the idea painfully. He couldn't go home yet. Things were still too raw. He wouldn't be good for anyone right now, and to see him would only remind everyone of how much they had lost and sacrificed. No, he reminded himself. It was better that he stayed right here in Bulgaria.

Sighing, he checked his watch. The trolley would arrive within the next five minutes or so. He found himself not really caring whether it showed up at all. He was bored with his life, and didn't really have anything to go home to, so why should he care whether or not the trolley ever came? All it would do would be to take him back to a flat that had absolutely no character or warmth. Once there, he would sit on the neutral sofa and blindly watch the tele until it was time to go to bed and start his mundane, pointless routine all over again the next morning. There would be no visits from friends, no meetings to get to, no social engagements to honor. He was alone, and although it was exactly what he wanted, he hated the hollowness in his chest and the bitter detachment he felt from everything around him.

The only thing that kept him going at a fairly steady pace was news from home. He had all of his friends' letters in a small box under his bed, and took them out whenever he missed them most. Even though he didn't write much back - he could never bring himself to try and explain why he stayed away - he always enjoyed poring over every little bit of news they would send his way. Ron's last letter had been filled with the trivial goings-on of people in his office, but to Harry, they were windows into his best mate's world; one he was not a part of anymore.

Suddenly, the ache of missing his friends hit him so hard, it almost winded him. He knew it would be like this. It had been like this last year on graduation day as well. Then, however, it had been slightly worse. He knew that Ginny was graduating, and he would have loved to have been there with all of his other friends to see her and Luna start the next step of their lives. He hadn't even sent an owl. There were parts of him that were dying off, little by little, and he didn't want to infect anyone with his poor attitude. They were all better off without him for the time being, at least until they could get a handle on their own lives and find something worthwhile.

The ring of the trolley could be heard in the distance, and the woman next to him struggled to her feet. She grimaced at him as she righted herself.

"Don't ever get old, dear," she said with a smirk, hauling her large bag onto her shoulder.

Harry stood as well, deciding not to respond to her comment. He knew he still looked like a young man, but he felt about a hundred. Whereas her pains were physical and out there for the world to see, his were emotional and buried inside him in the pit of his stomach.

The trolley coasted to a stop in front of them, and Harry waited patiently as she stepped onto the platform. He followed her slowly down the aisle, seeking an empty bench.

"Is this seat taken?" he heard the woman ask as he took the seat directly in back of her.

He sank low onto the bench and took his usual position, curling almost into himself to avoid contact with anyone. His stomach ached with hunger, and his mind continued to replay various memories of his own graduation day spent with his friends.

His mind jumped to the party the Weasleys had thrown for them after the ceremony, and Harry's heart thudded painfully when he remembered the laughter and the good times of that day.

Just then, the woman took her seat, and Harry's gaze latched onto a flash of red. At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but in the next instant, his eyes focused and he found himself staring at Ginny Weasley's troubled, clouded face.

He stopped breathing for a moment, and the moment was all it took.

She stood up, and bolted for the open doorway as if the devil himself were chasing her down.

Harry sat motionless for what seemed like an eternity. Thousands of things ran through his mind at such an alarming speed, he was afraid he'd have a nervous breakdown right there on the trolley.

Then, without thinking, he found himself rising out of his own seat, and sprinting for the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him.


	4. Where Loyalties Lie

**Anywhere but in Between**

Same as always. I only own the plot.

**Chapter 4 – Where Loyalties Lie**

Hermione strode purposefully through the sterile halls, pulling her hair into a tight bun as she went. She wasn't exactly late; she just wanted to be extra sure she was on time for today's rounds.

In another week, she'd know if she was one of the five chosen residents for the intern program at St. Mungo's. She couldn't afford to slip up, even in the slightest. So if that meant that she was five minutes early for rounds, so be it.

She rounded the corner, still fussing with her hair. Seconds later, she was winded and on the ground, staring up at Terry Boot.

"Hermione! I'm so sorry!" Terry exclaimed, reaching down to help her up.

She accepted his help and tried to catch her breath, finding her footing on the squeaky clean floors.

"Are you alright?" he asked, bending again to retrieve the paperwork that had fallen out of his own hands.

She nodded, still not able to find the breath for words. Terry straightened and looked at her, concern etched on his face.

"Are you sure? I barreled into you pretty hard there," he said, his eyes roaming over her in a practiced way. Hermione smiled. She wouldn't be surprised in the least if he became one of the most popular doctors in the ward. He was good – really good, and his patients loved him. Especially the women.

Terry had grown into a very attractive man since their days together at Hogwarts. She'd had a few classes with him her sixth year, his seventh, and she'd seen him at all of the prefect meetings. He'd been head boy that year, and she'd thought he'd made a fine one. He was stable, self-assured, mature and good-natured; all qualities she admired greatly.

And recently, she had added handsome to that list.

His dark hair fell carelessly over his forehead, and his blue eyes held true concern for her as he continued to study her.

"I'm fine, Terry," she managed finally, brushing herself off and patting her hair back into place. "I'm a lot tougher than I look."

Terry smiled at her, a genuine smile that transformed his already handsome face. "There's never been any doubt about that."

She returned his smile. They had been casually flirting for the past month or so, every time they saw each other in the halls or on rounds. They would trade little comments back and forth, allowing only slight insinuation into their tones. Hermione found it quite exhilarating if she were being honest with herself. She had never had someone flirt with her, and here was a successful, handsome doctor who seemed to want to spend time with her.

"Well, I'll be late for rounds if I don't get going," she said, not really knowing what else to say. That was the only downside to the flirting thing; she never really knew where to go with it when the conversation lacked.

"Okay," he said, moving to the side to let her pass. She had only taken a few steps when she saw him walking by her side.

"I was thinking," he said, staring straight ahead down the hallway, "that maybe we could get a cup of coffee or something tomorrow after work." His voice sounded odd, as if he'd practiced what he was going to say before this conversation.

She chanced a sideways glance at him, but his eyes were still trained down the corridor. "Um, sure," she found herself saying. "That sounds great."

He stopped walking, facing her with a smile on his face. She stopped as well, again returning his smile. She couldn't help it. It was infectious.

"Really?" he asked, "You don't think you'll be too tired or anything?"

"Of course not. Even if I am," she said, raising an eyebrow, "didn't you offer to take me for coffee?"

He laughed, and she found that she liked the sound of his laughter. It was deep and quiet, almost as if he were trying to maintain the aura of professional doctor even while he laughed.

"Always the quick one," he said, walking backwards away from her. Before he turned to go in the opposite direction, he waved and said, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Bye," she said, watching as he made his way down the hall. She had to admit, Terry Boot was a very handsome man indeed.

When she arrived home that evening, she found Ron lounging lazily on her sofa.

"You know, when I gave you a key, I assumed you'd only use it when I was out of town so you could look after the place," she said, tossing her keys on the table and shrugging out of her coat.

Ron leaned back to look at her almost upside down, grinning in his usual way. "You never go out of town, so I figured I should get some kind of use out of the key."

"What's up?" she asked, heading into the small kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea. He came in after her a moment later, brushing her aside and putting the kettle on the stove.

"Take a load off. You've had a long day," he said, reaching up to the shelf for two mugs.

She smiled at his back, realizing she shouldn't be so shocked anymore by the random thoughtful things he did. He'd been like this ever since they'd graduated. Ever since –

She stopped her train of thought. She didn't like thinking about the details of what had happened after the war.

She sank onto the stool at the breakfast counter and rolled her shoulders to ease some of the day's tension away. "You seem to be in a really good mood," she commented lightly.

He turned and grinned at her, and for a moment, he looked exactly like he had when she'd first met him - an eleven year old precocious boy with dirt on his nose. Although, this time, there was no dirt. His face, no longer boyishly round, was perfectly spotless, except for the small sprinkling of freckles along the bridge of his nose.

"I am in a good mood," he answered, taking the stool next to her. "We've just gotten some news at home."

For a moment, Hermione's heart thudded painfully against her ribcage. Had they heard from Harry?

Ron immediately sensed that he'd misspoken, and a shadow crossed his face briefly. "We heard from Bill," he said, almost apologetically.

Hermione refused to let herself show the disappointment outwardly. She should be used to the lack of news about Harry by now.

"Really? What did he have to say?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice light.

The smile came back onto Ron's face. "He asked Fleur to marry him, and she accepted."

Hermione gasped, then rose off the stool and hugged him quickly. "Ron, that's wonderful! A wedding! Oh, your mum must be in a state," she said, laughing.

Ron laughed as well, releasing her. The kettle whistled, and he got up and saw to the tea, shaking his head the whole time. "She's been pretty much unbearable, going on and on about plans and all, but it is nice to see her this happy again."

Hermione accepted her tea, and she found that she, too, was happy about something for the first time in a long time. "It's going to be an amazing wedding, don't you think? Fleur is going to be the most beautiful bride."

Ron gave her a sideways glance, and she rolled her eyes at him. "I'm allowed to compliment her, Ron. She is a beautiful woman."

"That's not how you used to feel about her," he teased, pretending to toss his hair over his shoulder. "She thinks a lot of herself, that one, doesn't she?" he mimicked, laughing when she swatted at his arm.

"Come off it. I was a silly girl back then and the last thing a girl wants is a pretty girl around to make her feel ugly," she grumbled, sipping her tea.

Ron waved off her comment. "You were never ugly. And she was only around that one year anyway. But you're right. She's going to be a stunning bride."

Hermione's gut gave a small twist at his words, and she chided herself for the girlish jealousy. The woman was going to be his sister-in-law after all. He was only agreeing with what she'd said anyway.

"When is the big day?" she asked.

"Sometime before the holidays. They want to do it as quickly as possible, which makes me wonder," he trailed off, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him again. "You can be so silly sometimes. She's not pregnant. They are probably just so in love that they want to be together as soon as possible."

Ron shrugged noncommittally, taking a drink out of his mug.

Hermione suddenly had a thought, and it made her even happier than the news about the wedding itself. "That means Ginny will be home soon!"

"I know, I thought the same thing," Ron said, sharing her enthusiasm. "I mean, she can't very well stay away from her own brother's wedding."

Hermione sipped at her tea, thinking of the day in the not-too-distant future when they would all be together again. Well, almost everyone, she reminded herself painfully, trying hard to push down the anger she felt toward Harry at staying away so long.

"So, do you want to come to the Burrow for dinner tomorrow and celebrate with us?" he asked, finishing his own tea and taking his mug to the sink.

Hermione blinked at his back, wondering why she felt so awkward all of a sudden. She had plans, and that should have been alright, but she knew, somehow, that she couldn't just come out and say that she had a date. For as good of friends as they were, there were still things that she didn't feel comfortable talking about with him.

"I don't think I can make it. I have to work late tomorrow," she said apologetically.

"Oh. That's too bad. Mum is making a feast," he said, relieving her of her own mug and rinsing it at the sink.

"Sorry. Maybe I can stop by this weekend and congratulate everyone. I have Saturday off," she said, rising off the stool and following him out to the living room.

He shrugged on his coat and grinned at her. "You mean, they actually give you time off for good behavior now?" he teased.

"Ha ha. Do you want to do something Saturday afternoon?" she asked, walking him to the door.

"Yeah, that sounds good. I'll come by after breakfast then," he said, opening her door. He paused, leaning against the doorframe.

"What?" she asked, taking in his thoughtful expression.

"I was just thinking how nice it will be to have something to celebrate again," he said with a small smile.

"I know," she replied, returning his smile. She really was so happy for Bill and Fleur, and even more so for the rest of the family. They needed something joyous and good in their lives, and the wedding would be a perfect opportunity for them to all be together and happy again.

Ron seemed to mentally shake himself as he pushed away from the door. "Look, sorry I let myself in before, but as soon as I found out, I wanted to tell you the good news and I wanted to do it in person."

"You know it's not a problem. You're here all the time anyway," she pretended to scold.

He wrinkled his nose at her, then waved. "Don't work too hard tomorrow," he said over his shoulder as he turned to leave.

Hermione closed the door behind him, hating the fact that she lied to her best friend. After all they had been through together in the last few years, it made her feel slightly sick that she had to lie about something so trivial. She should just be able to tell him that she was meeting someone for coffee.

Then again, if things were reversed, she wasn't quite sure she'd like to hear that he was having coffee with some woman.

Grumbling to herself about her own stupidity, she leaned against the closed door and wondered just when she was going to grow up.


	5. Enough

**Anywhere but in Between**

Same as always. I only own the plot.

**Chapter 5 – Enough**

Ginny moved halfway between a run and a light jog, trying to put as much distance as she could between herself and the trolley as quickly as possible without looking like she was crazy.

Her legs moved almost on their own accord, and she was grateful for it. She couldn't have made a decision right now if her life depended upon it. Seeing Harry again after two years had thrown her into such an emotional tailspin that she was sure she'd be feeling the effects of it for months to come.

He had been in Bulgaria all this time. How many times had she just missed him in stores, on the street, riding back and forth to work? Just the thought that he'd always been here made her shiver, and she tried to focus on a place to go. She couldn't just run around all night until she collapsed. She had to sit and collect herself enough to take another trolley home.

She slowed her pace, finding a coffee shop on the corner of the block she was on. She tried to calm herself as she approached the shop. The last thing she had expected to happen today had happened, and now all she could do was deal with the memories it brought up. Percy, the war, Dumbledore, all of the students who lost their parents or their own lives.

Voldemort dying right in front of her.

The images and memories flooded over her at lightening speed, making her lightheaded.

She came upon the shop and with a trembling hand she reached for the door. Before she could open it, however, a hand shot out of nowhere and splayed across the glass in front of her.

Startled, she turned around, then immediately wished she hadn't. Harry was standing there, staring at her with those damned green eyes of his.

"Harry," she whispered, the sound coming out before she'd even had time to think.

He didn't say anything. He simply stood there across from her. His eyes weren't exactly trained on her face. They seemed to be looking somewhere behind her, through her; or maybe he was just looking back two years.

They remained like that, in the entrance of the shop, not speaking for what seemed like an eternity to Ginny. She tried to think of a dozen things to say to him, but every time she went to say something, her mind would fall in upon itself and she was rendered speechless. What could she say to him now, after all this time?

The door was yanked open then, almost causing Harry to fall forward into the store. She put an arm out to brace him, and cursed herself when his eyes clouded and practically burned a hole through the hand on his arm. She retracted her hand and looked at the sun setting over his right shoulder.

A young couple exited the shop, excusing themselves and giving the two of them odd looks as they scooted between them.

As soon as the couple had cleared them, silence reigned again. Ginny shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, which Harry noticed with a grimace. Suddenly, Ginny was angry. Why did he come after her if he wasn't going to say anything? She had been happy enough to get off the trolley and pretend like the experience had never happened. She wouldn't have even told anyone that she'd seen him. So why was he just standing there, practically glaring at her?

"Why did you run?"

Ginny blinked in surprise at the sound of his voice, not just because of the question itself. She realized that this was the first time she'd heard his voice in two years, and he sounded older. So much so, that she chanced another look at him to see if he was still as young as she knew him to be.

Her eyes met his brilliant green ones, and she mentally cursed him. His eyes had always gotten to her. They were so bright and clear, and whether he knew it or not, he wore all of his emotions in them, easily read by anyone who knew him.

She realized she had to say something, but she didn't know what. She opted for a shrug, and when his scowl deepened, she cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"Seriously, why did you run?" he asked again, not allowing her to remove her gaze from his. His arms folded over his chest, and at the slight gesture of defiance and annoyance, Ginny met her own limit of annoyance.

"I don't know why I ran," she retorted, trying, and failing, to keep a hold on her temper. How dare he look so angry when he was the one who had ran away and never thought to let anyone know where he was or how he was doing?

Harry blinked at her. "I haven't seen you in two years, Ginny. One day I get on a trolley and there you are. The next minute, you're sprinting away from me like I have the plague."

Ginny's anger was boiling to the surface now. All of the anger and frustration she had felt over the last two years at his absence came charging to the surface. Suddenly, she could remember with perfect clarity every crushed look of Hermione's when the post returned an 'I'm fine' letter from him, Ron's face whenever he talked about something he and Harry used to do in school, her mother's reaction when she was told that there still was no news from Harry during the holidays.

And her own anger. Anger at being left out of his life when she was the only other person who had seen what he'd seen, and experienced what he'd experienced.

"I'm not sure what it is you want to hear," she said, mustering up every ounce of self-control she had.

"I want to know why you would run away from me like that?" he said in a tightly controlled voice of his own.

Ginny's eyes narrowed, and she found she couldn't control her tongue any longer.

"You want to know why?!" she spat, causing several passers-by to stop for a moment and stare at the two of them before going on their way. "You want to know why I ran?!"

Harry took a small step back, as if he wasn't prepared for her anger. The surprised look on his face confirmed her suspicions.

"I ran because I have no idea what to say to you after two bloody years!" she stormed. "Seeing you was like seeing a ghost, and I had no idea how to deal with it, so I ran!"

The silence that followed her tirade was tense and long. She wasn't looking at him any longer, and she assumed he was trying to think of the quickest, least awkward way of backing away without flat out running in the opposite direction.

As it happened, she was completely overwhelmed by the next words out of his mouth.

"I've missed you."

It was that simple. All of Ginny's anger deflated in one long, shuddering sigh. She felt her eyes well up with tears against her will, and she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay.

He moved his head until her eyes once more caught his, and when they did, she saw the hurt and lonliness she felt mirrored in his own eyes.

She let out a small sound, and closed the space between them. She put her arms around his neck and leaned into him, allowing herself to show him just how much she'd missed him as well. When she felt his arms wrap securely around her waist, pulling her tightly up against him, she let the tears fall at will.

They didn't say anything as they hung onto each other. She didn't need explanations or rationalizations.

For now, having him here – holding her- was enough.


	6. Breathing

**Anywhere but in Between**

I own nothing except the plot.

_Thank you to the reviewers. Your comments were lovely, and very appreciated. I'm having fun writing this story, even though I can't write as often as I want. I hope I don't lose anyone in the process. Thanks especially to Lv3nd3r 13rOwn...your review came on a day that I was feeling especially stressed and frazzled. It brightened my day to hear how much you are appreciating this story. I promise to try and keep the bar set as high as you expect it to be _:)

And now, on with the story...

**Chapter 6 – Breathing**

Hermione hadn't missed Ginny more than she did right now.

She paced in front of her hallway mirror, forcing herself not to look at her reflection for the hundredth time. Terry was coming to pick her up in less than ten minutes, and she was a nervous wreck. She desperately wanted Ginny here to calm her and tell her how foolish she was behaving over something as routine as dating.

Although, to be fair, she had never officially been on a date before. Viktor Krum had taken her to the ball in her fourth year, but she hardly considered that something to put down in the annals of time.

She'd gone to the graduation ball with a group of people, taking the pressure off finding one person to go with, and she'd had a wonderful time. Since then, however, she hadn't even been to dinner with anyone besides her family or one of the Weasleys.

Just as she was about to cave and check her hair in the mirror again, there was a light rapping on the door, and her heart started fluttering crazily.

_Get a grip_, she warned herself as she took in a deep breath and forced her legs to move. Her hand was shaking as she twisted the knob.

When the door was open, she caught her first glimpse of her date for the evening, and it did nothing to calm her heart rate.

Terry looked fantastic. His dark hair was brushed off his forehead and his eyes sparkled as he held out a small bunch of daisies.

"I didn't know your favorite flowers, but I took a chance," he said, his grin making Hermione's insides twist in girlish pleasure.

"Thank you, they're beautiful," she said, accepting the flowers and stepping aside to let him in. "I'm just going to put these in some water, and then we can go."

She went into the kitchen to find a vase, and realized the only one she owned was left over from the flowers Ron had gotten her when she'd been accepted into the healer's training program at St. Mungo's.

Her thoughts drifted momentarily, and she recalled opening the door to Ron hiding behind a spectacular arrangement of orchids – her favorite flower.

She chided herself mentally. Terry was new to her, and she to him. She shouldn't be comparing him to someone who knew her better than she sometimes thought she knew herself. She and Ron had been friends for ten years.

She reasoned with herself that she'd be angry if he _didn't_ know her favorite flower.

She arranged the flowers and left them on the breakfast counter, than rejoined Terry in the living room. He had been studying the pictures on her mantle, and turned to her with a smile that made her stomach flip again.

"This one is great," he said, gesturing to a picture of her, Ron, Harry and Ginny at the Burrow the summer before their seventh year, Ginny's sixth.

In it, Ron and Harry were standing behind the two girls, making faces at their backs as Hermione and Ginny laughed at the camera.

Hermione smiled, remembering that while George had been taking the picture, Fred had been sneaking up behind him with a large bucket of ice water.

"It seems like so long ago," she said before thinking, and once the words were out of her mouth, she wished she'd never said anything. The familiar tug of pain wrenched at her heart, reminding her that the four of them hadn't been that carefree, or together for that matter, in way too long.

Terry sensed the change in her mood and walked over to her. He extended his arm to her, which she took with a small smile.

"Well, come on then. Let's see if we can get that beautiful smile back on your face for real," he said, his blue eyes locking on to hers.

Hermione found that a real smile was much easier this time. Terry, she had to admit, was infectious in a way. Somehow, around him, she could put some of that stuff behind her, at least for a while. Around him, it didn't quite hurt to breathe.

Harry sipped at his coffee, feeling the warmth of the liquid trail down his throat into his very empty stomach. Funny thing was, though, he didn't feel the slightest bit hungry anymore.

In truth, he didn't know what exactly to feel anymore.

Ginny was sitting across from him, appearing fairly calm despite the shock that they had both gotten from seeing each other again so unexpectedly. She was sipping at her own coffee, and Harry watched the mundane task with mild fascination.

How many coffees had she had since the last time he'd seen her? Did she still like tea better?

Thousands of stupid questions ran through his brain, probably to distract him from the few important questions he wanted to ask, but was doing his best to ignore.

"Can I ask you something?"

Harry's focus snapped back onto her, and he was only mildly surprised by her question. He should have known better. Ginny had always had an uncanny gift of being able to read his thoughts and know what was going on in his head without him saying a word.

"Sure," he said, not knowing if he was ready to answer questions about why he had left, and why he hadn't returned home yet.

Ginny set her mug down and straightened her shoulders. "What are you doing with yourself here? I mean, do you work, or are you just, well, hanging out?"

Harry burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. Of all the things he had expected her to ask, this was probably the least of them.

Ginny looked at him in surprise. No doubt she thought he'd gone nutters in the time they'd been apart, and the thought made Harry laugh even harder. For some reason, he couldn't seem to stop himself.

The look of surprise on her face gave way to a smile, then a grin, then she was laughing right along with him.

"I'm sorry. I guess after two years, that was a pretty silly thing to ask," she said, once she'd composed herself again.

"Please, don't apologize. I haven't laughed in –"  He trailed off, knowing full well that she could probably guess the last time he'd laughed.

Her face grew thoughtful again, and Harry decided that no matter how simple the question, it deserved an answer.

"I've been working at a Quidditch supply store over in Fernighan," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Not exactly the fast track or anything, but it's steady, quiet, and I get to talk Quidditch all day."

Ginny nodded as if this made complete sense, and she tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

Harry watched the familiar gesture and his brows furrowed. He had seen her do that so many times as a young girl that he'd lost count, but she was no longer the young girl he remembered. It was all so confusing, yet oddly comforting at the same time.

"What?" she asked, searching his face.

"What?"

"You keep looking at me with your face all scrunched up," she said, mimicking what he assumed she thought his face looked like at the moment. "You've been almost glowering at me ever since you saw me on the trolley."

"I have? I don't mean to," he said, letting his gaze slip to the mug in front of him. "It's just so strange to see you here, after all this time."

She didn't respond right away, but when she did, her voice was lower, softer.

"Why have you stayed away so long?"

There it was. The question he wasn't sure he could answer even if he wanted to. Why had he stayed away from home and everyone who cared about him for so long?

Harry found his gaze being drawn up to hers against his will, and when their eyes met, he could see an understanding in them that he hadn't seen in anyone's eyes since he'd moved to Bulgaria.

Ginny knew him. She understood him, and she cared about him. Answering her question suddenly seemed like the easiest thing in the world.

"I was so – I don't know, confused and turned around after the war. I didn't want everyone to have to go through all that stuff and worry about me at the same time. It seemed like it would be easier for everyone if I just hopped a train and disappeared for a while. Then, once I was here, no one bothered me about who I was, what I had done, and no one had been hurt by any of my actions. I wasn't a reminder to anyone, and then after a while, it just became too hard to go back," he explained, shrugging as if to emphasize his point.

She considered his words for a moment. Harry braced himself for her reproachful lecture about how family was family and you don't run away from your problems.

"I guess that makes sense in its own way," she said quietly. She stirred her coffee absently, not really focusing on anything in particular.

"It does?" he asked, his brow furrowing again.

This time, Ginny was the one to laugh out loud, and the sound went straight through his brain to a part that remembered everything about the life he'd left behind. Suddenly, memory after memory washed over him of the times he'd had with his friends, and his whole body reacted to it.

"You sound shocked," she explained through her laughter, and she tucked her hair behind her ear again.

Harry suddenly felt as if his skin were too small to hold his body. Sitting here, listening to her soft laughter, watching her eyes crinkle in the way that they always had when something truly amused her, made Harry feel closer to home than he'd felt in way too long.

"Shocked is putting it mildly," he said, his voice low.

Her laughter faded away, and their eyes met and held.

"You were the last person I expected to see today, but here you are," he said simply.

"Here I am," she replied, smiling at him.

Just this morning, Harry had felt as if the world were pressing on his shoulders, and that he would never find the peace that he needed to be able to return to his friends as a whole, undamaged person.

Now, sitting here with Ginny, the weight was starting to lessen, and he found that he could breathe again for the first time in a long time.

He returned her smile, and reached for his mug.

"So, what exactly are you doing here anyway?"

_Please review if you feel the need, and have the time. I would appreciate any feedback. In the next chapter, Hermione has some explaining to do, Ron starts to realize he has to do something with his life, and Harry and Ginny spend some more time together._


	7. Something More

**Anywhere but in Between**

_I only own the plot. Thank you again to those who have reviewed. _

**Chapter 7 – Something More**

Ron let his feet slide off the corner of his desk and land on the floor with a loud thump. He was bored. There was no work for him to catch up on, since he'd caught up on it all yesterday, and the day before, and the day before –

He yawned, stretching his arms over his head. Sometimes, his desk job at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had its advantages. He got to go to lunch whenever he wanted, he got to leave earlier than most of the agents, and he never had to take work home with him since there usually wasn't even enough to keep him busy during the work day.

Sometimes however, like now, he wondered just what his purpose at the department really was, since he never seemed to have anything pressing or important to do.

Usually he spent his days taking care of the little work that was pushed his way, which only took about two hours. Then he would read owl posts and write letters of his own, search through cases from years ago to keep the boredom at bay, and then he'd sometimes take a walk up to see his father.

Sighing, Ron came to the realization that he did absolutely nothing of importance, and although that had been what attracted him to the position in the first place, he couldn't see doing the same thing day in and day out for much longer.

Just then, an agent named O'Connor walked in front of his desk. Ron knew him to be a very good agent, and he had the respect of the entire department. The man was only 30 and he was already a senior agent in charge of four countries.

"Weasley," he said, nodding his head in Ron's direction.

"Sir, can I ask you a question?" Ron asked on impulse, rising from his chair.

"Sure, what is it?"

Ron realized that he really didn't know what it was he wanted to ask. Did he want to go into the field? Did he want to get out of Magical Law Enforcement completely? Did –

"Weasley?"

"Oh, sorry sir," Ron apologized quickly. _Great_, he thought to himself. _Now the man thinks I'm a completely spaced out freak_.

"Um, I guess I was wondering how someone would go about rising in the ranks here," he said in a rush, afraid that the man would lose interest and storm away from him muttering about the dolts the department had hired recently.

O'Connor scrutinized him with a beady gaze. Ron shifted where he stood, uncomfortable under the man's intense sizing up.

"You've been here how long, Weasley?" O'Connor asked finally.

"Two years, sir."

O'Connor nodded and then raised an eyebrow. "Have you taken your aptitude test yet?"

Ron furrowed his brow in confusion. There was an aptitude test?

"I take it from your look you haven't," the senior officer said with a small smile.

"No sir."

"Did you take any post-graduate courses?"

Ron shook his head. He hadn't done anything after graduating. The war had taken up his life for five months after he graduated, and then he'd had other things to deal with.

Death of a brother and a mentor, and the abandonment of a best friend.

O'Connor shook his head along with Ron, then stopped himself. "Oh, well, I assume that certain – things – kept you occupied," he said, sympathy evident in his tone.

Ron wasn't surprised that the man knew about the particulars. His friends and family had all been involved in bringing about the destruction of the most powerful Dark Lord of all time, and O'Connor wasn't senior officer for nothing.

"Well," said the older man, shifting his files from his right arm to his left, "the first thing I would tell you to do is take that test. The test is designed to see where the department could use you most, and what you are most adept at doing for the department."

"Okay," said Ron, feeling that it was a good place to start.

"Then I would meet with Agent Foster. She is in charge of placing junior agents and has a pretty uncanny ability of putting people where they belong," O'Connor continued. His smile grew wider. "That is, if you can stand to be in the same room with her for more than five minutes."

Ron grinned back. "I've had a lot of practice with ornery females. I think I'll be alright."

O'Connor nodded at him and extended a hand for Ron to shake. "Sorry it took so long for someone to point all this out to you. If there is anything more I can do, Weasley, please let me know."

"Thank you sir. You've been a big help already," Ron said, shaking his hand.

O'Connor gave him a small wave over his shoulder as he walked away from Ron's desk. Ron watched him go for a moment, wondering if he would ever be as successful as the senior agent, and sat back at his desk to pen a letter to his supervisor requesting a date to take the department aptitude desk.

It was high time he stopped wondering if he could be successful. He had to at least try. Everyone else he knew was pursuing what they wanted to do, and they all seemed to find some degree of happiness in it.

Ron wanted that. He wanted to do an honest day's work and feel that he contributed something.

He wanted something more out of his life than he had right now.

* * *

Ginny found that she couldn't concentrate at all at the night seminar she was required to take for her advanced course for the Ministry.

Her thoughts, as often as she tried to force them not to, kept returning to the chance encounter she'd had with Harry over three days ago.

She was so happy knowing that someone from her life was actually here, and she could tell that although he still felt it was too early to go home to everyone, he felt the same way. They had talked all night, sharing dinner because Harry had assured her that if he didn't eat soon, he'd turn to dust right in front of her.

She had felt like a sponge that night, soaking up all the information he was willing to share about what he'd been doing over the last two years. She felt privileged because she knew everyone at home was dying to hear from him in this fashion.

He had asked her all about her Ministry internship, and had listened amazingly well as she went on and on about how much fun she was having and how well suited she felt to the position.

They had parted that night with the promise to meet up at least twice a week for lunch or dinner, and Ginny had to admit to herself, she was looking forward to seeing him again altogether too much.

She was extremely pleased and a bit surprised to find Hedwig waiting for her at the receptionist's desk of the building the meeting was being held in.

She stroked Hedwig's beautiful plumage and gently removed the letter from her leg. "How are you Hedwig?" she cooed softly, not realizing until now how much she had really missed Harry. Hedwig hooted quietly in response, and nipped affectionately at Ginny's wrist as if to show her how much she had been missed as well.

She opened the letter and smiled at the still barely-legible handwriting of Harry Potter.

_Ginny,_

_I was wondering if you could meet up for dinner tomorrow night at Belisnov's. It's a small restaurant near where you said your dormitory is and according to locals, is fairly good. Please let me know if you can make it. Hedwig will wait with you until you are ready to send a reply. Do me a favor? Give her an extra big treat. She's cross with me and I think she thinks that I've known you were here all along and didn't get in touch with you until now. Sometimes, I wonder about this bird of mine._

_I hope you can make it. I had fun the other night, by the way. Especially after you almost fell asleep in your soup listening to me go on and on. I promise, if you come to dinner this time, I won't say a word._

_P.S. That's not true._

_Harry_

Ginny laughed and stroked Hedwig's feathers again. "You missed me, huh girl?" she said softly, laughing again when Hedwig hooted sharply in response.

Ginny grabbed a spare parchment off the desk in front of her and quickly scribbled a reply to Harry's invitation. Then, she reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of treats for Hedwig to munch on as she fastened the letter to her leg.

"Don't be angry with Harry," Ginny said, gently tweaking Hedwig's beak. "We just found each other the other day, and I think he's doing brilliantly considering the circumstances, girl."

Hedwig nipped again at her finger and turned her head to the side as if she were studying Ginny very carefully. Ginny laughed, and watched the beautiful snow-white owl take flight.

"Ginny," acknowledged a colleague as she walked by.

"Hello, Anita."

The woman stopped and looked as if she were about to say something, then closed her mouth again. When she repeated the action, Ginny laughed again.

"Is there something you wanted, Anita? Because if not, you are doing a spectacular impression of a fish."

Anita smiled at her and shook her head. "I was going to say that I don't believe I've seen you this happy since you got here. You've been smiling for the last few days almost non-stop, and you just look – I don't know – different. Something has to be going on. What is it?"

Ginny smiled at her co-worker. "Reconnecting with an old friend," she said simply, her thoughts already on tomorrow and the dinner she would be having with the boy she shared a past with, and the man he had become in his absence.

Please read and review.


	8. Keeping Secrets

**Anywhere but in Between**

_ As always, I own nothing but the plot. Thank you again to my faithful reviewers. I really cannot tell you how much it means to me to read your words of encouragement. The other day, I checked the reviews, and I got the biggest smile on my face. Again, thank you to Bhekie, Lv3nd3r, DracoM'sGrl, JLaLa, belanna30, mysticalecho, amarisrl, orlifan18, and aschowin. I promise I will try and make the chapters longer. I wish I could do this all in one shot, but the length of the piece usually reflects the time I have that day. You guys are the best!_

**Chapter 8 – Keeping Secrets**

Harry had chosen the restaurant because it was well known for its food, but never seemed busy. He had never really gotten used to eating in public, since he'd never liked the stares that people usually threw his way.

He didn't have to wait long before Ginny arrived. She came bursting through the door with the usual Weasley urgency, and the fact made Harry smile. Some things, no matter how long he'd been away, never changed.

She tossed her purse onto the table and sank into the chair in front of her.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. The seminar lasted a lot longer than it was supposed to and –"

"It's okay, Ginny. I just got here a few minutes ago myself," he assured her, sliding a menu toward her. "A guy at the shop says that we have to try their steak. He practically talked my ear off about it yesterday."

Ginny shot him a grin before her face disappeared behind the menu. "I could eat just about anything now, but a steak sounds heavenly."

Harry smiled again, before he could stop himself. He'd made a promise to himself to stop acting like a grinning fool around her, because he felt like all he'd done since they'd seen each other was smile idiotically at her.

Or whenever he thought about her.

"So, how was the seminar?" he asked, putting his menu down.

"Oh, you know. The usual stuff," she replied.

She finally lowered her menu, and Harry was momentarily thrown by the vibrant color of her hair. Was it just him, or had it gotten shinier since he'd seen her last?

"What?" she asked, scrunching up her nose.

"Sorry?"

"Well, you're looking at me funny," she said, her lips curving into a smile.

"Oh, sorry," he said, mentally congratulating himself on his razor-sharp conversational skills. "You just look so different from what I remember."

"Is that good or bad?" she questioned lightly. At his dumbfounded expression, she burst out laughing. "Come on, I can't be that hideous."

Harry snorted. "You were never hideous. Remember how many guys Ron and I had to chase away your sixth year?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Yeah, thanks for that, by the way."

"Your welcome."

She laughed again, and Harry realized it was one of the most infectious sounds he had ever heard. He was valiantly trying to come up with something else humorous to say just to hear it again when she spoke first.

"I got a letter from my mum yesterday," she said, her eyes practically dancing now.

"Oh? Good news?" he asked, almost wishing he could read the letter. Somehow, he wanted to see Mrs. Weasley's neat scrawl very badly.

"The best news. Bill and Fleur are getting married," she said joyously, her smile lighting up her entire face now.

"Really? That's brilliant," Harry exclaimed, fondly remembering Fleur from the Triwizard Tournament. "She's going to make a beautiful bride."

Ginny looked full to bursting, and it did Harry good to see it. He had been so worried about the Weasleys after all they had lost, and a wedding was wonderful news indeed.

"When is it set for?" he asked, seeing their waiter heading over to the table.

"Some time in October, I believe," she replied.

Harry nodded and a sudden wave of homesickness washed over him. The whole family would be there, and he would be stuck here in his cold apartment, wondering about it the entire time. He reminded himself that it had been his choice to leave, and now he had to deal with the decision.

Their waiter stopped at the table to take their order. As he was leaving, he shot Ginny an appreciative look that she missed completely.

Harry hadn't, however.

The protectiveness he'd always felt for her came rushing to the surface, and he had to stop himself from telling the waiter off. Instead, he opted to survey the rest of the diners, wondering if any of them were looking Ginny over as well.

He couldn't blame them, really, if they were. She had always been a pretty girl, with her long, shiny hair and flawless complexion. Now, though, two years later, her face had matured into a graceful, delicate beauty that left him wondering if she was being chased by the entire male population of Bulgaria.

"Are you going to take anyone special to the wedding?" he found himself asking suddenly.

Ginny regarded him closely again, and then she shook her head. "There isn't anyone special. This internship has taken up all my free time."

"Oh."

There was a slight pause in conversation, and Harry found himself toying with his napkin.

"What about you?" she asked, piercing the silence.

"Pardon?"

"Is there anyone special for you?" she asked, putting an elbow on the table and resting her cheek in her hand. The motion was oddly endearing, and Harry gave her a lopsided smile.

"Are you kidding? I'm probably the last person who should be seeing anyone. Too much baggage," he added, as flippantly as he could.

Ginny kept her eyes trained on him, not smiling along with the joke. "Everyone has baggage. You shouldn't keep that from stopping you from seeing anyone if you are interested."

Harry shrugged. "Well, that's the problem. I'm not interested in anyone."

Their waiter returned with their drinks, and Harry stared coldly at the man as he placed Ginny's drink in front of her entirely too slowly.

When the waiter did not immediately leave, Harry cleared his throat and barked out a short, "Thank you."

The man glared at Harry as he retreated, making Harry seriously doubt that his food would be in perfect condition when it arrived.

Ginny laughed and Harry's attention turned back to her.

"It's good to see some things don't change," she said, smiling openly at him.

The smile changed his mood instantaneously, and Harry shrugged again. "With Ron not here, I guess it will be my job to fend of the stupid gits who come around."

Ginny looked heavenward, as if asking for help from above, and muttered, "I'm going to be an old maid, aren't I?"

Harry laughed, sipping at his drink, then saw that the waiter was leering at Ginny from his post near the kitchen, and he scowled. The idea of her being an old maid sounded pretty good right about now.

After dinner, Harry walked her back to her dormitory after much insisting and arguing.

"What did you think? That I would let you walk back alone at this time of night?" he scolded lightly as they walked down the brightly lit street.

Ginny groaned out loud. "Yes, because this area is definitely seedy, isn't it?" she retorted, gesturing around her at the quaint shops and well-kept homes lining the street.

"Whatever, Ginny. I may have been gone for a while, but I do remember my manners."

"Oh, you had manners?" she teased, bumping him lightly with her arm.

"Ha ha."

They walked along in companionable silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Ginny stopped, and Harry had to retrace a few steps to be even with her again.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I can't believe I didn't think of it before," she said, almost to herself.

"What?"

"You should come to the wedding with me," she stated, turning to face him.

Harry felt like a deer in headlights. Suddenly, the thought of seeing everyone again after so long seemed daunting and scary.

"I don't know," he answered finally. "I think that may be awkward for everyone involved. I don't want to take away from Bill and Fleur's day."

"You wouldn't," she assured him, lightly touching his arm. "We could go a few days ahead of time, get everyone used to seeing you again, and then it won't be so weird."

Harry shook his head. "I just don't feel that enough time has passed – "

"For what?" she said suddenly, her voice tinged with mild annoyance. "How long exactly were you planning on hiding away here?"

Harry stared at her unblinking for a moment, not sure how to respond. She had said she understood his reasons for leaving and staying away, and now she seemed angry that he wasn't willing to go home for a visit.

"Ginny, I'm not hiding. I just needed some time, and some space," he explained.

She stared even harder at him, and removed her hand from his arm. "You weren't ever planning on going home, were you?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, and found that he didn't have an answer for her.

She was right. If two years and five countries weren't enough time and space, maybe he had never had any intentions of going back.

"Harry," she continued quietly, "Hermione and Ron, all of our friends, my family, they all want to see you so badly. You can't stay away from everyone forever. They are a part of your life whether you like it or not, and unless you want to cut them all out of your life for good, you will need to face them again. Why not do it when there is something wonderful to celebrate?"

He considered her words carefully as they continued their walk to her dormitory. Could he do it? Could he go back and face what he hadn't been able to face two years ago?

They reached the entrance to the dormitory, and Ginny faced him again.

"Please think about it. They want to see you, and I know you want to see them. I haven't told anyone you are here because that's your business, but I don't know if I can lie if they ask me outright if I've had news from you. We all used to ask each other that all the time."

Harry kept his gaze on the cobblestones near her feet. "I promise I'll think about it. Okay?"

When she didn't answer, he looked up and met her eyes. She was considering him very carefully, and she tried to offer him a small smile, but failed.

"Okay, Harry," she said quietly.

"Hey," he said, suddenly afraid that she would never want to meet up with him again after tonight, "Do you want to have lunch on Monday?" he asked, kicking at a small stone near his shoe. His eyes never wavered from hers, however, and when a small smile played at the corner of her mouth he continued. "That is, if you can stomach seeing me twice in as many days?"

"If I can, I think everyone else can, too," she threw in before turning away from him and making her way to the door.

Harry shook his head. He should have known better. If the Weasleys were anything, it was persistent.

"Goodnight, Harry," she called back when she reached the doorway.

"G'night Ginny."

He waited until she was safely inside, then turned and reluctantly headed for his apartment. He had a lot of serious thinking to do, and he wasn't exactly looking forward to the long, probably sleepless night he had ahead of him.

Ron knocked on Hermione's door early Saturday morning. When she finally answered, Ron laughed as he took in her sleepy appearance.

"Well, this is a first," he commented as he entered her flat. "Here I am, all bright-eyed and ready to go, and you look as if you just got in."

Hermione groaned at him and he laughed again. She had never been much of a morning person.

"I'll make some coffee, and you can get ready," he said, making his way to the kitchen. She followed him and sat on the other end of the breakfast counter.

"What are we going to do today?" she asked, yawning halfway through her sentence. Ron threw a grin over his shoulder as he busied himself with her coffee maker.

"I was thinking we could stop by and see Fred and George this afternoon. They have a new product that they're unveiling today, and I told them I'd try and make it," he said.

Hermione smiled despite her reservations about the twins' joke shop. "That sounds like fun, actually. I haven't seen them in so long."

"I know. We're all so scattered around now, and they are getting so busy now that school is out," he said, leaning against the counter.

It was then that he noticed the flowers. The daisies stood proudly in their little vase next to the stove, and he pointed at them. "Nice flowers."

Hermione's eyes opened in full alertness so suddenly that he was taken aback. She now looked wide-awake, and she sat up straighter in her chair. "Thanks."

"I didn't even know you liked daisies," he said, watching her carefully now. Something was off, and he couldn't place what it was.

"I don't, really, I just, well – they were a gift from someone at the hospital," she said hurriedly, a slight tinge staining her cheeks.

Ron nodded slowly, wondering why she seemed so nervous about a patient giving her flowers.

"Oh," he said simply, knowing that there had to be more to it than that. He decided to let it go for the meanwhile, because she was looking as if she were about to bolt out of her flat and leave him standing right where he was.

"Yes, well, I'm going to go get ready so we can get going," she said, sliding quickly off the chair and wrapping her robe tighter around her.

Ron watched her go, eyes narrowed in suspicion. When she had disappeared down the hallway into her room, he looked all over the counter for signs of a card, but came up empty.

When she returned fifteen minutes later, he was sipping at his own coffee as he handed her a steaming mug.

"Thanks," she smiled at him gratefully as she took a tentative sip of the hot liquid.

"So, late night last night?" he asked, and was surprised when she practically choked on her coffee.

She sputtered for a moment, then reached for a napkin to wipe at her lips. Ron's suspicions grew as he watched her fumble all over herself. Hermione never did anything unless the action was calculated and sure.

"What's going on?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Why are you acting all weird?"

Hermione set her mug down and wiped at the coffee that had spilled over onto the counter. "Nothing's going on, and I'm most certainly not acting weird," she said shortly.

At least Ron knew how to deal with this Hermione.

"All I asked was if you had a late night last night, and you got all strange," he teased mildly. "Work couldn't have been that bad."

A dozen emotions fleeted across her face for the briefest of moments, before she answered him. "Right, work. Well, I didn't get in until well after midnight, so I guess I'm a bit more tired than I usually am on the weekend," she said quickly.

In the next instant, she moved to the sink and poured her coffee down the drain. "Come on," she said, brushing past him again, "I can get coffee in Diagon Alley. I want to get a move on because there's a book I need to get for work and they get really busy on the weekends."

Ron watched her silently as she bustled about, getting her purse and her keys together. When she had finished, and was standing impatiently near the door, he sighed, got rid of his own coffee and met her at the door.

He'd just have to wait until later to find out what was really going on.

They strolled the streets of Diagon Alley with no real urgency. It was a bright, clear morning and the shoppers had not yet descended upon them.

Ron told her all about the aptitude tests, and how they had come to the conclusion that he was best suited for work in the Criminal Profiling Department.

"They said that my logic and strategy scores were through the roof," he boasted proudly, reacting to the gleam of excitement in her eyes. "They said that I could be really good at finding out how criminals behave and mapping their possible future behaviors and maneuvers. I told them that growing up with Fred and George was enough training I would probably need," he said, a wry grin on his face.

Hermione laughed, and stopped walking. "Seriously, Ron, that's fantastic. I can't believe you didn't take that test before now."

"Yeah, me neither. It would have saved me so much energy wasted on making paper airplanes and serious hours of target practice."

She laughed again, and put a hand on his arm. "I'm so proud of you. You are finally going to be doing something you really care about. It's going to be tough for a while as you learn the ropes, but I just know you're going to be brilliant at it."

He spared a glance at her hand on his arm before he looked up to meet her gaze. He could never tell her, but her acceptance and appreciation was something he had worked hard to achieve, and he loved when she bestowed it upon him at times like these.

Of course, all he could do was smile back at her, and he kept his mouth firmly shut on the subject after that.

When they reached the bookstore, Hermione tried to talk him into going inside, but he had been on enough outings with her to a bookstore to know that she'd be in there for a good, long while. He usually wound up standing around, feeling a bit suffocated by all of the volumes on the shelves, waiting for her to finally make up her mind about which to purchase.

"I think I'll go check out the Quidditch supply store. I heard they got in a new set of gloves that the keepers on the national teams use. I might pick up a pair for Charlie for his birthday," he said, already backing away from her. He knew that the longer he stood around, the more likely it was that she'd drag him into the bookstore whether he liked it or not.

She groaned aloud at him, but turned and waved over her shoulder. "I'll meet you at Fred and George's in a half-hour," she called out before disappearing into the store.

Ron made his way down the street, not really in any rush to get to the Quidditch store. He probably couldn't afford the gloves anyway, so he looked into the windows of all of the shops along the way.

"Ron?"

Ron turned at the sound of his name, and saw Terry Boot walking toward him. He smiled in recognition at the former Head Boy and shook hands with him when they met up.

"I thought it was you. The hair," Terry said, gesturing toward Ron's head.

Ron laughed. "Yeah, we can definitely get picked out of a crowd," he said. He had always liked Terry, who he found to be fair, level-headed and too bloody brilliant for his own good.

"So, what brings you out here this early?" Ron asked, noticing the bags clutched in Terry's hands.

"My nephew's birthday party is tomorrow. Nothing like waiting for the last minute," Terry said, laughing. "What about you?"

"Oh, I came to see my brothers, but I'm waiting for Hermione. She's in the bookstore, but I couldn't bring myself to go with her. If you remember, she had quite a thing for books that I just can't bring myself to share," he replied, shrugging.

Terry grinned back at him. "Oh, I remember all right." Then, his face grew serious and he leaned toward Ron conspiratorially.

"Look, I don't want to be all silly about this, but I'm dying to know. Did she happen to mention if she had fun last night?" he asked quickly, his eyes intent upon Ron.

"Pardon?" asked Ron, completely confused. He knew that Hermione worked with Terry, but from the stories from work Hermione had told him, fun rarely entered into the picture.

"You know, did she say anything? Did she have a good time?"

Ron stared back at Terry, not knowing what he was talking about in the slightest.

"Oh, I guess it's in poor manners to ask a best friend about this kind of thing. Secrets and all, I can understand that," Terry said finally, when the silence had stretched a little too long.

Ron just kept staring.

"Well, can you at least tell me if she said she liked the flowers?" Terry asked, his eyes hopeful.

Suddenly, everything added up in Ron's head, and his stomach clenched in reaction. The flowers. How tired she had been this morning. Her reaction to his questions.

"She likes orchids," Ron said out loud, not really knowing what he was saying in the slightest.

Terry grinned at him and nodded his head. "Good to know. I didn't really know what to get her, since it was our first date and all, and I figured daisies seemed like something most women would like. Now that I have the inside information, it will only be orchids from now on."

Ron felt as if his tongue were glued to the roof of his mouth. He stood completely still, his eyes focused on a point somewhere over Terry's shoulder.

Hermione had been on a date last night.

The blood started pounding in his skull, and he didn't know what made him angrier; the fact that she'd been on a bloody date when she should have been with him at the Burrow, or the fact that she'd lied to him about it.

"Well, I think I'll head into the bookstore and secure myself a chance to give her those orchids," Terry said jovially. Ron's stomach lurched at his tone and he clenched his fists at his sides.

"It was good seeing you Ron," Terry said, moving his bags to the side to offer Ron his hand.

The last thing he wanted to do was shake hands with the man before him. In fact, he wanted to break those pretty little doctor hands of Terry's so he could make damn sure that they never touched his best friend.

Instead, he offered up his hand to shake, and gritted his teeth as Terry grinned once more at him before turning to pursue Hermione.

Once he was gone, Ron took a deep breath. It had always been like this with Hermione, and he should be used to the feeling by now. The blind, utter rage he felt at other men whenever he felt that they were getting too close to her.

Now, though, it was a bit different. She had lied to him, and that on top of everything else was making him see red. He stalked off in the opposite direction, not really caring if Hermione ever caught up with him or not.

He was tired of waiting for her, anyway.


	9. Face the Music

**Anywhere but in Between**

_I only own the plot. Thank you again to all the reviewers and their fabulous words of encouragement. I really can't tell you what they mean to me. Please, please, please, keep them coming! I really like this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed having Fred and George make an appearance._

**Chapter 9 – Face the Music**

Hermione was in a right state. She had been ever since Terry had walked into the bookstore. When he had told her about running into Ron outside, she had started visibly shaking to the point where Terry had expressed his concern.

This isn't how she had wanted things to go. She had been planning on telling Ron about Terry later, after their visit to the twins and a stop at the Burrow. She figured that after a day with his family, he might me more accepting of the concept.

He'd been over-protective and irrational for years when it came to her, and in all honesty, it had been really nice to know that someone cared about her so much that no one was good enough for her in his eyes. Of course, she couldn't tell him that. Usually she criticized him for his barbaric attitude and irrational comments, but it was all a façade.

In all honesty, it made her heart flutter crazily every time he so much as scowled at another guy where she was concerned.

She pushed through the door of Fred and George's shop, only taking a small moment to appreciate the number of customers they were entertaining at the time. Her focus was centered completely around one thing.

She needed to find Ron and explain why she had lied to him.

She knew that was what was making her so nervous. In all the years they had known each other, they had been oddly honest with each other. They almost had to be, since they had so much to deal with regarding keeping Harry safe and happy. She knew that her lie this morning would be viewed as a betrayal on her part, and the last thing she ever wanted him to think was that she'd betray him.

Her eyes caught a flash of red, and she ducked around a small child holding a fake wand up to his mother. Once clear, she saw Ron leaning against the register counter, talking to George.

Rather, George was talking, and Ron was standing there, his arms folded across his chest, looking petulant and disregarding.

George saw her first. He stopped, mid-sentence, and he grinned widely.

"Hey there, pretty lady. I heard you're sneaking around on my brother," he said playfully, earning him a withering glare from Ron.

"Sod off, George," Ron growled, not meeting her eyes or even acknowledging her presence.

Hermione, all too used to the twins' incessant teasing about her and Ron's relationship, didn't rise to the bait.

"Ron, can I talk to you?" she asked hesitantly. Ron kept his face trained away from hers, and George raised his eyebrows.

"Ooohhh, is this going to be one of your delicious yelling matches? I haven't seen one of these in years!" he exclaimed. "Fred, get over here! You're going to miss all the fun!"

Hermione sighed. "It will be no such thing, George, and I'll thank you to stay out of our affairs."

"So you admit it?" George asked, grinning devilishly. "You're having an affair?"

"Honestly, George," Hermione started.

Ron finally turned to face her. "No, I think you have that backwards," he said coldly. "Honestly, Hermione."

Hermione met his eyes, and she could see how much she had insulted him by lying to him this morning. She felt awful, and she didn't know if she could explain to him why she had done it. "Ron, I'm sorry I lied to you. I just didn't know how to tell you about Terry without it turning into a big thing."

"So it was better to lie straight to my face and then have me find out on the street, looking like a world class fool because I didn't know what the bloody hell he was going on about?" Ron spat, the anger in his face mirrored in his tone.

"How was I supposed to know that he'd be here today?" Hermione asked desperately, throwing her hands up. "I was going to tell you about him later on tonight, after we got back from your parents' house."

"Why wait? Why didn't you tell me about him when you were first asked out?" Ron argued, drawing the attention of a young girl the next aisle over. "Isn't that what best friends do?"

Hermione started to feel the old frustrations coming to the surface. She had gone through this once or twice at school and had never figured out quite how to deal with it.

She stared straight at him. "I didn't tell you for this exact reason. I didn't want you to get all –"she trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Jealous?"

Hermione whipped her head around to glare at George, who was leaning toward them on his elbows, watching the two of them with glee.

"Shove off George," she growled, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. This only caused George to grin even wider.

"Sorry, sweetheart. My shop and all," he said cheekily.

Hermione scowled deeply, feeling her blood rushing to the surface. Fighting one Weasley was strenuous enough. She couldn't take on two of them right now.

"You always get so protective, and although I appreciate your concern, I'm a grown up, and I can make my own decisions regarding my life," she said, refocusing the full extent of her attention back onto Ron. He was still glaring at her, and his arms were folded over his chest.

"What?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Did he ask you out again?" he asked coldly, "because next time he'll definitely bring you orchids. You know, seeing as how they're your favorite."

Hermione glared back at him. "What is it with you? Do you want me to be alone and unhappy for the rest of my life?"

"You never felt alone or unhappy before," he said quickly. "What's changed?"

"I don't know!" bellowed Hermione, drawing stares from the small group of customers at the rear of the store. "I just want something more than what I have now, that's all! I don't want to go straight from one year to another and experience the same things over and over. I've never dated anyone before, and if you want honesty, Ron, then I'll give you honesty! I had fun, and besides hanging out with you, that is something that has been severely lacking in my life recently!"

Ron rocked back a bit on his heels, as if she had physically slapped him. Just when Hermione was sure he'd come back at her louder and angrier than she'd gone at him, she saw an oddly accepting look come into his eyes.

"Fine," he said flatly.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, not quite sure she had heard him correctly.

"What?" she asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"What?!" George echoed incredulously. Hermione and Ron both turned to face him, and he looked utterly amazed. "You mean, you're just going to let her – "

"I'm not going to let her do anything," Ron interrupted in a quiet voice. "She's right. She's allowed to live her own life, and if she wants to date Terry, then she dates Terry."

George gaped at his younger brother, then stalked off, muttering incoherently under his breath.

Hermione and Ron were left alone for the first time since their argument had begun, and Hermione had even less of an idea of what to say now than she did when it started.

Ron was considering her carefully, all of the anger now gone out of his eyes. "Hermione, I'm sorry that you felt that you had to lie to me, but I think I understand why you did. I didn't realize that my protectiveness bothered you so much, and the last thing I want is for you to be unhappy because you think I'll be mad at you for going after what you want."

Hermione's whole body seized up, and she suddenly felt like she was about to burst into tears. Ron had always had this way of making her feel such a varying spectrum of emotions all at once that she didn't know whether she was coming or going. For him to even think that she would ever feel that way about him made her heart ache, and she rushed to refute the claim.

"I know that you want me to be happy, Ron. Your protectiveness is just your way of letting me know that you're keeping an eye out for me, and I appreciate it more than you'll ever know," she said quietly. "I promise I'll never lie to you like I did today. It was wrong of me, and I'm sorry."

Ron gave her a small smile, although she noted that it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just as long as you know that if Terry even looks at you the wrong way, you'll see protective like you've never seen it before."

Hermione smiled in return. "I wouldn't expect any less."

She stepped toward him and put her arms around his neck for a quick hug. "Thank you," she said when she was close to his ear.

"Your welcome," he answered. She realized that he wasn't exactly hugging her back, his arms loose around her waist, but she decided to take what she could get while she could. He had forgiven her, and was actually looking at the situation maturely and fairly. She smiled, thinking that it was a very strange thing indeed, when one's best friend decides to grow up.

"KISS HER!"

Hermione and Ron separated and looked over at the front of the store, where Fred was standing on a ladder, watching the two of them with an amused expression on his face. A moment later George approached him, spoke to him with a disapproving look on his face, and marched away.

Fred looked appalled, and glared at Ron from his perch on the ladder.

"You stupid git," he yelled, causing several of his patrons to glance at each other, wondering if every Saturday at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was as eventful as this one.

* * *

Ginny read and reread the letter Hermione had sent to her and shook her head as her eyes slid over the words. She couldn't get over the fact that her friend was actually dating someone.

Not that she thought that Hermione dating was so far-fetched. She had always wondered at the boys' intelligence at Hogwarts, because Hermione had been pretty, smart, talented, funny and kind all through school, and none of them had ever approached her.

Then again, her best friends had been Harry and Ron.

Ginny smiled, thinking of Harry's reaction to the over-attentive waiter the other night at dinner, and wondering what he would think when he found out.

She could just imagine what her brother had to say about the subject.

She laughed to herself, glad at least to be away from home for this turn of events. She had been through enough of Ron's dark moods when Hermione and Viktor Krum had carried on a friendship when they'd been in school. She didn't think she could handle any more mornings of Ron sitting moodily at the breakfast table and snapping at anyone who asked him what was wrong.

Truth be told, she'd always kind of assumed that Hermione would get wise to her brother and the two of them would live happily – well - live something ever after.

She shared her thoughts with Harry when they met for lunch.

"Wait, who did she say she was seeing?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed.

"Terry Boot. Come to think of it, it makes perfect sense," Ginny commented. "They are so alike, and from what I remember, he was nice-looking. Add to that the whole doctor thing –"

"But what about Ron?" Harry asked, and Ginny's eyes met his in shared understanding.

She smiled. "My thoughts exactly."

"Hmm." Harry got a faraway look for a moment, before he shrugged. "Well, I guess they'll figure things out eventually. Maybe this is good. Kind of give Ron something to think about."

Ginny laughed, and Harry's eyes focused on her once again.

"What?" he asked, still not used to the overall sense of well-being he got whenever she laughed like she was now.

"Nothing. It's just funny to think that even you could see what was going on. You used to be so clueless," she said, still giggling.

Harry didn't know whether to be amused or insulted. He didn't think he was _that_ thick.

"Not when it came to singing Valentine's cards," he said levelly, enjoying the slight and brief flush it brought to her cheeks. The next instant, however, it was gone.

"Please," she said, waving her hand. "I was eleven and you were a bloody celebrity."

"Oh," he said, trying to stay with the teasing tone of the mood, but finding that it bothered him, very slightly, that she had been able to brush aside her childhood crush so easily.

A thoughtful smile replaced her giggles, and then she met his eyes. "You know, this would probably be a good time to start writing to Ron again. I mean, he's going to need someone to be in denial with, and you have all those years of experience with it already."

Harry hadn't thought about that. Ron had never really come out and talked to him about everything concerning Hermione and the complicated feelings he had for her, but he told Harry enough in the way he acted and the snide comments he let drop from time to time. He was sure that if he wrote Ron right now, the response letter would be filled with news of Hermione, but in random, sporadic scrawlings of the many ways in which she infuriated him.

All of a sudden, he missed his best mate very much.

He blamed it solely on Ginny, who was now watching him carefully. Ever since he'd been spending more and more time with her, thoughts of home and his friends infiltrated almost every one of his waking thoughts. He found himself wondering if he really could go home and have everything be alright.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay, what?" asked Ginny, looking confused. Harry breathed in and came to terms with his decision. He was ready to go home, at least for a good, long visit.

"Okay, I'll go to Bill and Fleur's wedding with you."

The words circled in the air around them, neither of them saying anything right away. He saw the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, but to her credit, she did not turn it into anything else.

Instead, her eyes lit up and the most incredibly peaceful look came over her face.

"Okay," she said, her voice clear and strong.

Harry smiled at her, which she returned gladly, and Harry knew that he had made the right decision.

Now all he had to do was find the courage he'd need to go home. He had explaining to do to everyone he'd left, and he had questions that he would need to find answers for. He'd have to dredge up some of what had happened to make him go away, and he'd have to be ready for however they would welcome him back.

Ginny turned her attention to the menu sitting across her plate, but her hand reached out to cover his for the briefest of moments.

Suddenly, Harry was ready for it. He was ready to go home.

Please read and review. I really enjoy hearing what you guys have to say. Also, please let me know if there is anything I should change, or add, or whatever, to get this going. I am thinking that the next chapter will skip ahead a bit. I'm anxious for Harry to get home...


	10. A Shoulder To Lean On

**Anywhere but in Between**

_I only own the plot. _

_A special thanks to the reviewers again. I smile every time I check my mail and see your wonderful words of encouragement and appreciation. _

_Never fear, wackyone: more Ginny POV to come_

_Thank you Kat Solo: that was the nicest compliment and I'll try to live up to it with the rest of the story_

_Thank you to the newcomers to the story and those of you who have been with it since the beginning. You make my day, every day! _

_Please keep reading and reviewing, and more than that, enjoy_

_Side note: The first part of this chapter came to me while I was driving to work listening to an Eva Cassidy CD. If you don't know who she is, see if you can check out some of her stuff as soon as you can. She was a folk-blues singer about twenty something years ago that died at 35. She has brilliant remakes of songs like Fields of Gold, Somewhere Over the Rainbow, and sings Songbird (which was in the movie Love, Actually) with the most hauntingly beautiful voice I've heard. _

**Chapter 10 – A Shoulder To Lean On**

Classes kept Ron busy for so much of the summer that it was the beginning of October before he knew it. He was more tired than he'd ever been in his life, but it was an oddly rewarding feeling. He went straight from work to his Profiling classes, and then straight home, to sleep and start everything all over again in the morning.

He hadn't seen much of anyone recently, even his parents, which is why he decided to pay a visit to his father after lunch.

"Your mother is driving me crazy with all of the wedding stuff," his father said wearily, after they'd chatted for a while. "Every day there's something else we've forgotten, something else we have to prepare." Ron laughed as his father continued. "I don't think we even put half as much thought into our own wedding."

"Is there anything you need me to do?" Ron asked, feeling a bit guilty for not being around as much anymore. He'd tried to stay as involved as possible in the preparations, but with work and school, he barely had time to sit down and have dinner every day. He saw the relieved look come across his father's face, and suddenly, he regretted his decision. He could just picture himself standing in a shop picking out dress robes or flowers or something along those lines.

"Actually, yes there is," his father said, reaching into his desk and pulling out several envelopes. "Could you see these sent off? They're thank you notes for the engagement gifts. Fleur didn't have time to owl post them, so your mother offered to do it. Then she ordered me to do it."

Ron laughed again and accepted the letters from his father. "Sure, I'll send Pig off with them when I get home," he said.

"Thanks, son," his father sighed gratefully.

"No problem."

"So, how are your classes going? We don't get much chance to see you any more, you're always running here or there," his father asked, smiling at him with pride. "You'll be done some time after New Year's, right?"

"Yeah, about then," Ron replied. "So far, classes are great. This stuff is so fascinating, and I think I'm actually good at it."

"Of course you are," his father said proudly, "you have a fascinating mind, like your father."

When Ron stopped at home after work before getting ready for class, he flipped through the letters to see how long Pig would be away. His eyes fell on Hermione's name, and he realized with a pang just how long it had been since he'd seen her.

For the last few months, she'd been working long hours and continuing to date Terry. That didn't leave much time for him, which he had come to accept, although it had taken a while.

He suddenly wanted to see her very much. He wanted to talk to her about his classes because he knew that she would fully appreciate how exciting he found them to be.

He also wanted to know how things were going with Terry.

They didn't really talk about Terry that much when they were together. It was almost as if they had an unspoken agreement that she could date him, as long as she didn't mention details about their dates or ask questions about relationship-type things.

Ron grimaced, placing her letter on the top of the others. He didn't really like the fact that Terry was taking away all of her free time. From what he could gather she was happy, and although Ron was glad that she was, it was still hard to accept that she didn't need him anymore to be as happy as she was.

He pulled the letter off the top of the stack, holding it again in his hand. He studied the letters of her name for a long moment, before taking the other letters, tying them up in a string and attaching it to Pig's leg.

The letter addressed to Hermione, he stuck in his pocket before putting on his jacket.

It was high time he paid his best friend a visit.

The first thing he was struck with when she answered the door was how exhausted she looked. The second thing was the overwhelming sadness in her eyes.

"Hermione?" he questioned, taking a step toward her in concern.

She stepped away from him. "Ron, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice strained and full of the same sadness he saw in her eyes.

"I was going to send Bill and Fleur's thank you note along with everyone else's, but I realized I hadn't seen you in weeks. Are you okay?" he asked immediately, still standing in the doorway.

Hermione looked as if she was trying to nod, but her face fell and she backed away from the door. "No," she said quietly.

All of a sudden, Ron's blood boiled in his veins. If Terry had hurt her –

"What did he do?" Ron ground out through clenched teeth.

She appeared confused for a moment, then she shook her head. Even the slight motion looked as if it were costing her too much energy to accomplish.

"It's not about Terry," she explained in a low voice. "Although he wasn't exactly supportive earlier."

"Hermione, what's going on?" Ron asked, feeling at a complete loss. He hated seeing her like this, and it was killing him not knowing why she looked as sad as she did.

She sighed heavily and made her way to the sofa in the living room. She sank down onto the cushions and rested her head in her hands. Ron closed the door behind him and followed her to the sofa. He sat next to her, and waited patiently for her to tell him what had happened. He didn't think it had to do with her parents, because she wouldn't still be here in her flat. His guess was that something had happened at work.

After a while she raised her head off her hands, although she didn't look at him. She was staring straight ahead of her blankly, a multitude of unreadable expressions crossing her face.

"I lost a patient today," she said finally, her tone flat and lifeless.

Ron sat completely still, not knowing what to say. His gut twisted painfully at the lost look on her face, and he reached out to touch her shoulder. Before his hand could come to rest on it, however, she shifted away from him on the sofa.

"I'm so sorry," he said, trying not to take the physical distance she'd put between them personally. "When did it happen?"

"Early this morning, around 4 a.m. –"she trailed off, her voice sounding fragile. She blinked rapidly and straightened her shoulders. "She had gotten hit with the Demoxifolia Spell, and the poison spread to her blood stream last night. We worked on her for twelve hours, but in the end, it didn't make any difference." Her face suddenly took on a hollow look. "I had to tell a mother that her daughter was dead, Ron. She died because I couldn't do anything to save her."

"Don't do that to yourself," Ron said. "I'm sure you did everything in your power to try and help her."

Hermione finally turned to face him. He was taken aback yet again by the stormy look on her face. "I'm a healer. I'm supposed to heal people. I failed her, and now a family is torn apart all because I couldn't do anything."

Ron felt as if a lead ball had settled in his stomach. He couldn't stand to see her beat herself up like this. "Hermione – "he began, reaching out for her shoulder again.

"Stop!" she screamed suddenly, bringing her own hand up and shoving his away. "There's nothing you could say to make me feel better about this, so why bother? She died, and I just need to deal with it in my own way. So you can stop with the pitying looks and the concerned tone," she snapped, her eyes looking oddly bright.

Ron simply sat there, regarding her closely. He couldn't guess how hard this was for her, but if he knew anything, it was how his best friend operated. She was trying to pick a fight with him to make herself feel better, and if it would, then Ron would gladly take the verbal beating until she felt the need to stop.

"Okay," he replied, leaning back against the sofa.

They sat in silence for a long moment, still a few feet apart from each other. Hermione's arms were folded over her chest as if she were trying to hold herself together, and her gaze was now fixed on the fireplace.

"She was only five years old. What kind of monster could put a five year old in danger like that?" Hermione said finally, her voice shaking slightly. "Who could harm a little girl, Ron?"

Ron didn't have an answer, but he knew she wasn't really expecting one. "She was so scared when they brought her in. There were so many people rushing around her, and her eyes just followed everyone around the room. I sat with her all last night, and when we realized there was nothing else we could do, I watched her slip away right before my eyes," she said resignedly.

Ron's chest constricted at the sound of utter desolation in her voice. He wanted to make it all better, to be able to say something and make all that pain go away. But he couldn't. He knew he couldn't, because there hadn't been anything said that had made his pain magically go away after Percy's funeral. He remembered, though, that talking about it with Hermione had helped slightly, and he figured he owed her that much in return.

"What was her name?" he asked.

She was silent for a moment and her shoulders straightened again. "Eleanor," she said quietly.

"That's a pretty grown up name for a little girl," he said.

Hermione finally turned to face him. "That's what I said to her when they first brought her in. That was when she told me, in no uncertain terms, that five was not little," she said, a small smile of remembrance on her lips.

"She was so pretty, Ron. She had this beautiful long brown hair and the biggest brown eyes I've ever seen – "her voice failed her and she stopped talking. Ron saw the tears welling up in her hauntingly sad eyes and moved toward her again.

"I told you, stop it," she said fiercely, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. "I'm going to have to learn how to deal with this kind of thing if I'm going to do this for the rest of my life. What kind of healer would I be if I broke down like a weak little baby every time I lose a patient?" she demanded.

Ron just sat there, watching as the emotions flew rapidly over her face and darkened her eyes.

Then, in the next instant, her shoulders crumbled and she slid closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her tightly just as a strangled sob escaped her throat and she finally let the tears fall. He kept his arms securely around her as she cried uncontrollably into his chest. Her arms tightened around his waist, and he tried to hold her as close to him as he could.

He stayed well into the night, offering her tissues and listening when she began to speak about the little girl again. Somewhere around midnight, she fell asleep against his shoulder, her hand intertwined with his. He gently removed his fingers from hers, guided her down onto the pillows of the sofa, and covered her with a blanket.

He allowed himself a moment to watch her sleep. She looked small and vulnerable lying curled up protectively on her side, and his chest constricted again. This time, however, it wasn't out of sympathy or pity.

He recognized this feeling all too well, and decided that it was time he got himself home. He scribbled her a short note telling her to reach him if she needed anything, and that he'd stop by after his class later that day.

When he got home he went straight to bed, but sleep was long in coming. His thoughts were back with his best friend, and he when he finally fell into a fitful sleep, he was thinking of her still.

* * *

The walk to the Quidditch supply store where Harry worked was longer than Ginny expected, but she was glad for it. She was still trying to recover some kind of hold on her emotions, and the brisk fall air was helping slightly.

When she finally reached the store, she took a deep, calming breath and pushed the door open. She spotted Harry immediately, helping a young teenager choose a pair of rain-resistant goggles just beyond the counter.

"Can I help you, miss?" a voice asked from behind her.

Ginny turned. An older man with graying hair was smiling warmly at her.

"No, thank you. I'm just here to see a friend," she said politely, pointing over to where Harry was standing with his customer.

"Okay," he replied good-naturedly. Then, suddenly, a knowing smile lit up his face. "You wouldn't happen to be Ginny, would you?"

Ginny was taken aback. "Yes, I am," she said in surprise. "How did you know that?"

The man continued to grin openly at her. "From everything Harry has said about you, I would be a daft fool not to know it was you."

A flush crept into her cheeks, but she pushed aside the silly thoughts immediately. Harry had probably described her to his co-worker, and since there weren't many Bulgarians with bright red hair running about, she figured it was strictly a matter of process of elimination.

Harry had finished with his customer, and the older man called out to him. "Harry, your young lady is here to see you."

Harry looked up quizzically, then realization dawned on his face just as his eyes focused on her. From where she was standing she could see the crimson color staining his own cheeks.

He made his way over, giving his co-worker a reproachful glance. "I see you've met Tom," he said dryly as he approached her. "Tom, this is –"

"Ginny, yes, I know," he interrupted jovially. "Who else could it be? Although, I must say, she's even more lovely than you made her out to be."

Ginny smiled slightly at the horrified look on Harry's face, but decided to take pity on him. "Tom, would you mind if I spoke to Harry for a moment?" she asked.

Tom grinned happily, shaking his head. "Not in the least pretty lady. It was good to meet you. I was wondering when I'd get to meet the reason this one's not moping about all the time any more."

Ginny saw Harry close his eyes in embarrassment as Tom walked away, whistling to himself.

She let herself enjoy the look on Harry's face for only a moment before getting to the reason she'd stopped by.

"Harry, I just wanted to come by and let you know I can't go to lunch today. I have to take care of a few things before my classes." she said, trying to keep her emotions in check. The last thing she wanted to do was lose it again, this time in front of Harry and a handful of customers and employees she'd never met.

He must have noticed something in her tone, because his brow furrowed, and he eyed her with concern. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

She averted her eyes from his. "I have to go shopping for a new owl. Hermes passed away last night."

She kept her eyes trained to the floor, and Harry didn't respond right away. Then, she felt a hand on her arm, and her eyes came up to meet his.

"Do you mind if I tag along?" he asked.

She nodded slightly, using every bit of restraint she had to not throw herself into his arms. He understood how hard this was, and she found it comforting that she didn't have to explain herself to him. He just simply got it.

"Hey, Tom," Harry called, getting the older man's attention. "I'm going to step out for a bit, but I'll be back in an hour or so."

"No problem," Tom called back, the mischievous grin still on his face. "You and your gal have a good time."

Harry shook his head at Ginny, who would have laughed on any other day. Now, however, it was enough to be guided gently out of the store and down the narrow street of shops.

There was something so comforting about his presence at her side, and Ginny felt safer knowing that if she did break down and cry, for the fifth time today, she wouldn't have to be ashamed. Harry knew that Hermes had been Percy's owl, and she guessed that he also knew that losing Hermes had been like losing a piece of Percy all over again.

The thought made her eyes well up with tears, but she struggled to keep them in. Just because she knew he'd understand didn't mean she wanted to get all weepy on him in the middle of a crowded street.

Harry didn't say anything as they walked, and she was grateful. She didn't know if she could hold a conversation now anyway. Too much of her focus was going into holding herself together.

When they got to the pet store, Harry held the door for her and guided her in with the palm of his hand on the small of her back. The gesture made her pulse quicken, but she shoved the thoughts to the back of her mind.

It wasn't the first time she'd had to do it since spending so much time with him over the past few months, but she was getting pretty good at it. She didn't want to have to deal with all of those old, complicated feelings all over again. She was having fun just being with him, and their friendship was too important to her to mess up with silly, adolescent wonderings.

Besides, if there was one thing of which she was certain, it was that Harry still saw her as the little sister of his best mate, or at least as a very good friend from his childhood.

They stood in front of the owl cages, glancing over the selection carefully. Ginny's eyes started to sting with the tears she was holding back, and all of a sudden she knew that she shouldn't be here right now. Hermes had been a constant reminder of Percy, and although it had been rough at times, she had found it oddly comforting to see the beautiful brown owl every morning and evening.

"Harry, I don't think I can do this. Could you take this, and just pick out one that you think can handle a lot of trips back and forth from home?" she asked weakly, extending a small bag of coins toward him. "I'll be outside."

Harry reached out to accept the coins, and as soon as they were in his hand, she turned and fled the store.

Harry came out about five minutes later, carrying a large, beautifully crafted cage covered by a beige blanket.

Ginny walked over to meet him, smiling sadly in appreciation. "Thank you. I'm sorry I couldn't –"

He waved off her comment mid-sentence, and held out her coin bag to her. "It wasn't a problem. Here, take this. It's on me."

Ginny shook her head. "No, that's alright, but thank you anyway. The Ministry actually gives us a pretty decent allowance for being in the program."

Harry looked determinedly into her eyes. "Ginny, I never got you a graduation present, and I've missed out on two years of birthdays and holidays. Take it," he said.

She sighed, and accepted her money back. "That's really nice Harry. Thank you."

"No problem," he said, smiling at her. She felt herself smiling back, and the effort to do so wasn't as painful as she thought it would be on this horrible day.

"So, do you want to see your new pet?" he asked.

Ginny closed her eyes briefly, a quiet moment in which she allowed herself to say goodbye to Hermes, and her last link to her brother. Then, opening her eyes, she nodded and reached for the blanket.

Her eyes rounded when she saw the magnificent owl Harry had chosen. The feathers of her new owl were a mixture of bright gold and a tawny red that glinted in the low October sun. The owl hooted gently at her, and she smiled at the comforting sound. The bird's large, dark eyes blinked at her as if sizing her up, and when Ginny reached through the bars of the cage to stroke the feathers, she was surprised at how soft and silky they were. The owl remained completely still, allowing her to pet it, its gaze still locked directly onto her.

"Hello, pretty," Ginny said softly. The owl hooted again, and Ginny's heart lifted. The sound was so soft and gentle that she immediately felt better about things. Harry had chosen very well indeed.

"It's a boy, Ginny, so handsome might be more appropriate," Harry said lightly, causing Ginny to laugh.

"Sorry, boy," she apologized to the bird, who only hooted again in response. She laughed again.

She raised her eyes to Harry, who was watching her carefully. "Thank you so much. He's so beautiful."

Harry smiled at her. "The clerk said that he can cover a lot of distance, and he's really strong, so if you are sending packages you won't have to worry. He's about a year old, so he'll be around for a very long time."

"So, what do you think I should name him?" Ginny asked, admiring the bird once again.

"That's up to you. He's yours now," he replied.

Ginny gave it only a moment's consideration. There was only one name that kept repeating in her head today.

"Percival," she said softly, her hand reaching out to the owl once more. "His feathers look like the Weasley hair, don't they?" she added, watching the light play off of the brilliant plumage.

When Harry didn't respond right away, she raised her eyes once more to his. He was watching her closely, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Yeah, I kind of thought that, too," he said, his voice sounding odd to her ears. Then, in the next instant, he cleared his throat and continued. "I think Percival is a great name for this particular bird because to be honest, he chose me. I was standing there, looking over all of the owls, and he was the only one not making any noise. He was just sitting there, staring at me. When I pointed to him, he seemed to sit up straighter, looking all dignified."

"Seems appropriate," Ginny said, laughing quietly. The memory of her brother washed over her all at once, and she stopped laughing as a tear escaped before she could catch it.

Harry took a step closer to her, putting the cage off to his side. "I think I'm going to stop by the store and take the rest of the day off. Want to come along?" he asked, his eyes still focused on her face.

"Sure," she said, wiping away the insulting tear. "What are you going to do with the rest of your afternoon then?"

"Spend it bothering you, if you don't mind," he said, smiling at her.

She laughed again, this time the sadness of the morning seeming far away. "Sounds like a plan," she responded gratefully. She didn't really want to be alone right now, and she felt an immense gratitude toward Harry for knowing that.

They made their way down the street back to the Quidditch shop, their arms brushing up against each other every so often. Ginny had a brief thought to move away to allow for more personal space, but for reasons she didn't want to explore, she didn't.

She smiled slightly to herself when she realized that Harry didn't move away either.

**_Please read and review. I love hearing from you all._**


	11. Seeing Clearly

**Anywhere but in Between**

_ Happy Holidays everyone. Sorry for the delay on this, but the real world was getting busy for a while there. Thank you to everyone for their overwhelming continued support, and thanks to RonandHerm4eva for the wonderful review. How flattering! _

_As usual, only the plot is mine, so let's get on with it_

**Chapter 11 – Seeing Clearly**

The first thing Hermione saw when she woke up the next morning was her name written in Ron's illegible scrawl on the end table. She rubbed at her tender, puffy eyes and reached for the note.

_Hermione,_

_Sorry you had to sleep on the sofa, but I didn't want to wake you up. I'll be at the office all day if you need me, and at class until around eight. I'll stop by after, if that's okay, and maybe we can get some dinner. _

_I hope things look better this morning. I'll keep Eleanor's family in my thoughts today, and you. _

_Ron _

Hermione smiled softly. All at once she recalled, with perfect clarity, the feeling of his warm, reassuring arms around her and an involuntary shudder ran through her body.

He had been so incredibly sweet last night. It was a very confusing thought, since he had always kept a fair distance with her when she was upset. It was almost as if he felt she would break into pieces if he approached her while she was crying in the past. Last night, though, he'd held her and listened to her cry and ramble on for hours.

The changes in him had been hard for her to accept, but she'd been getting more and more used to them as time had passed. He was still as he was as a boy, but the hazy things had come into focus, making him a truly incredible person to know.

She was amazed at his ability to juggle his job and school, along with a large family and his friends. He was working round the clock, but still found time to hand-deliver a thank you note and check up on his best friend, then stay and listen until well into the next day.

Suddenly, she wanted very much to see him again. She wanted to tell him how much last night meant to her, and how proud she was of him. She let the note fall to the table as she stood to get a piece of parchment and a quill.

_Ron,_

_I do feel better this morning, and that is largely in part to you. Thank you for what you did for me last night. Not for the first time, I'm thankful you're my friend. _

_Please come by after work, but don't worry about dinner. I'll make pasta. I heard somewhere that it's your favorite. Consider it my very poor attempt to thank you. Or punish you. I also heard somewhere that I'm not a very good cook._

_Hermione _

Feeling better already, she smiled and sent the letter off with the morning mail. Her spirits were lifted merely at the thought of seeing Ron again tonight, and she realized she was smiling despite herself.

She stopped, standing perfectly still. She knew this feeling. She had done her best to ignore this feeling for so long, and with dating Terry, she was sure that all of this had passed. Now, though, it began washing over her slowly, setting her pulse racing and her skin practically buzzing.

There had been a time, long ago in school, that she had cherished every moment Ron would tease her, or look at her out of the corner of his eye. Every silly grin, or angry shout he threw at her made her feel the rush she was feeling right now.

She sighed and sank back onto the sofa. It had been the most confusing time of her life, when she'd found herself fancying her best friend. She hadn't known how to act around him, and often she felt as if he could tell what she'd been holding back. That he'd never done anything to encourage anything more between them had convinced her that he didn't, however, or worse. That he did notice, and didn't want to draw attention to it because he didn't feel the same.

When she'd started dating Terry, she had hoped, somewhere very, very deep down inside her, that he would get jealous like he did when she'd been corresponding with Viktor in school. Because if she was being honest with herself, that had been the only time she'd ever truly allowed herself to think that he could possibly feel the same way, but was just as scared as she was to say something.

But he hadn't. He had accepted her dating Terry with much less resistance than she had expected.

Thinking of Terry, she sighed wearily. She really did like him, but the detachment he had expressed over Eleanor's death bothered her slightly, as did the way in which he dealt with her in the aftermath. She supposed that all of the things she was feeling right now were related to that, and she hated herself for making the comparisons. Ron had been a part of her life for ten years. She had only known Terry for five months. It was unfair, and she realized she was making more trouble for herself than she needed.

She forced herself off of the sofa, and decided to set about getting ready for the day. She luckily had the day off, so she could spend it straightening the apartment and catching up on some reading.

Then, halfway to her bedroom, she was hit with an overwhelming desire to see her parents. It had been two weeks since she'd seen them last, and considering the events of the previous day, it made her practically ache to talk to them. She took a quick shower, dressed hurriedly, and was out the door a little before noon.

Her parents welcomed her with open arms, and listened sympathetically when she talked about Eleanor and her family. It was just what Hermione needed, and it finally took her mind off of all the thoughts that had been storming through her head since waking up.

"Oh, sweetheart, why didn't you call us last night? You shouldn't have been alone," her mother said softly.

"Honey, I'm sure Terry saw her home safely, and stayed to make sure she was alright," her father responded.

"Actually, Ron stopped by last night after work, and he pretty much stayed with me until I stopped crying," she explained.

She had forgotten how much her parents liked Ron.

Suddenly, the focus was brought back onto the one thing she was hoping to forget.

"Did he now?" her father replied, his eyebrow raised. "Well, that was certainly very nice. Of course, he's always been a very nice bloke."

"And so sweet," her mother added. "He's always so sweet when we see him. He's becoming quite an extraordinary man, isn't he dear?" she asked, training her eyes on her daughter.

"He always was extraordinary," Hermione said automatically, not even realizing she had spoken until she heard herself. She blushed, knowing that her parents had always assumed that her and Ron would get together someday.

Sure enough, she saw her parents exchange a look, and she sighed. "For the millionth time, we're just friends," she said emphatically.

"And why is that again, dear?" her father asked, a small smile on his face.

Hermione opened her mouth to issue the same reasons she had always given when her father had teased her about Ron in the past, but no sound came out. Today, the question didn't seem as easy to answer, and that thought above all else was what kept her company the rest of the day, even after she'd left her parents' house.

It stayed with her while she went for groceries, and while she cleaned her loft from corner to corner. It bothered her in the shower, and confused her as she got dressed.

By the time she started cooking, she was sick of thinking about it, and forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

It all came rushing back, however, when she heard the soft rapping on the door.

_Get a grip, Hermione_, she scolded herself. _You're just friends because not being his friend would destroy you. _She collected her thoughts quickly, straightened her back, and went to open the door.

The first thing she saw was a rather large, rather unattractive looking plant. Then, the plant moved, and Ron's clear eyes came into view.

"Hey, there. I know this looks disastrous, but it's actually a healer's plant. It is a hybrid of about six different herbs, so you have the base ingredients of about thirty different potions," he explained as he entered the doorway.

The thoughtfulness of the gift touched her and she stood completely still as he walked around her and set the plant on the end table near the sofa. "It's bloody heavy, though," he said, turning to face her with a grin.

Suddenly, having him right in front of her, seeing his lopsided grin and smiling eyes, she was overcome with the desire to be near him. Her feet carried her to him almost of their own accord. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and rested her cheek up against his chest.

"What's this for?" he asked after a moment, sounding surprised.

"Thank you, Ron," she said quietly, holding onto him tightly. She felt him chuckle softly under her cheek, and she pulled back to see his face.

"If I had known this was how you responded to hideous plants, I'd have gotten you one long before now," he teased, looking down into her upturned face.

Thousands of emotions ran through her at such an alarming pace that she released him and took a step away from him to regain some clarity. "Are you hungry? Dinner is all ready."

Ron appeared confused by her sudden switch in behavior, but then again, so was she.

She cursed herself under her breath and turned to the kitchen. She busied herself with the plates, setting the table and bringing out two glasses.

"I don't want you to be scared," he said as he took his seat at the table, "but I haven't eaten since eleven. Watch your hands."

Hermione laughed, and suddenly she felt better. Thinking of Ron's eating habits as a boy in school gave her what she needed to distance herself from how confused she felt right now.

Ron talked throughout most of the dinner, which she found impressive since he was eating at an alarming pace. He told her about his day and what he had learned in class that night, and Hermione found herself smiling at him the entire time. He sounded so awestruck by what he was studying, and the pride she felt for him increased near to busting when he told her about his most recent exam score.

"A 97, can you believe it?" he asked incredulously. "The only thing I ever earned a 97 on in school was my flying test first year."

Hermione laughed, taking in the boyish look on his face. She was so happy for him, knowing how much it meant to him to finally have found something that he was perfectly suited for.

"I'm so proud of you. You know that, right?" she asked, meeting his eyes across the table. He looked back at her steadily, and the expression in his eyes was unreadable. He didn't say anything for a moment, but then he smiled at her and pointed toward the last meatball on the platter.

"You want that?" he asked.

She shook her head, and he speared it with his fork and rested it on his plate. She laughed suddenly, remembering a film she had seen when she was a little girl.

"At least you didn't try to nudge it toward me with your nose," she said, still laughing at the image of Ron's head bent over his plate.

"Huh?" Ron asked, looking at her as if she'd gone mental.

She shook her head again. "Nothing. It's from a Muggle film."

Ron still looked completely confused. "Some bloke pushed a meatball at a girl with his nose? What kind of film was this?"

Hermione burst out laughing. "It wasn't a film about people. It was two dogs and –" she trailed off when she saw the confused look grow into one of utter bewilderment and laughed even harder.

"Are you trying to make some connection between me and a dog here, Hermione?" he asked, raising an amused eyebrow at her. This caused her to fall even deeper into a fit of giggles, and she held her side.

"Stop, I'm going to be sick," she said, wiping at her eyes with her free hand. Ron was grinning at her now, and his hand was moving toward his fork.

"Let's see if you are laughing with sauce all over your face," he threatened lightly, picking up the fork with his meatball still speared on the end.

Hermione's eyes rounded, and she pushed away from the table. "You wouldn't. That's so childish, Ron, and I really don't think –"

"I'll do it?" he finished for her, and she rose from her chair.

"No, I don't think it's proper for you to threaten your host with her own food," she said, backing away toward the kitchen.

Ron rose out of his chair as well, a devilish glint in his eyes. "It's a small loft, Hermione, there's nowhere to run."

He lunged for her, catching her with one arm around her waist. She let out a small scream as he pulled her back toward him, holding the food over her head. She pushed at his chest with both hands, but he was much stronger than her. She then tried backing away, but he just went with her, until her back was up against the wall.

"Stop, Ron, that's enough," she said, half-fearful that he might actually do it. She shoved at his chest again, but that only caused him to tighten his hold on her.

"Say I'm not a dog," he said, waving the food in front of her face quickly, then retracting it when she made a swipe for it.

"I never said you were a dog," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Forget I said anything."

"Say it," he threatened again, this time the food coming much closer to her face.

"Fine!" she said loudly, "You're not a dog!" Then she burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. Ron released her, but didn't move away, trapping her against the wall.

"You got lucky, Ms. Granger," he said, staring down into her face with a wide grin.

That was how Terry found them when he entered her apartment moments later.

Hermione heard the door open and his voice from the front room. "I knocked, but you must not have heard me so I just let myself –"

Hermione wished the floor would open up under her when she saw the look of open surprise on Terry's face when he spotted them in the corner. He was holding a bouquet of orchids, which dropped to his side.

"In," he finished, staring at Ron with a level look. Ron took a step away from Hermione, who was now free of the wall. She didn't move, however. She knew how it must have looked to Terry, but she didn't explain. She remained silent, and Ron cleared his throat.

Terry's brows drew together in confusion. "What exactly is going on here?"

"Nothing," Hermione responded automatically. Suddenly, with the power of speech came the power of movement. She practically jumped away from the wall, and crossed over to the far side of the table, far away from Ron. "We were just having dinner, and Ron decided to start a food fight."

Terry's eyes swung back to Ron, who shrugged sheepishly at him in return. "She called me a dog."

Hermione felt the giggles threaten to spill out of her again, so she reverted her eyes from Ron's amused ones and focused on her still put-out looking boyfriend. "What are you doing here, Terry?" she asked.

He seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts as he extended the flowers to her. "I felt badly about the way we left things yesterday, and even worse about what I said. I just thought I'd come by and apologize since you weren't in today."

Hermione forced what she hoped was a natural, normal look on her face as she accepted the flowers. "Thank you, Terry. They're lovely."

Terry smiled at her, and she forced a smile on her own face.

"Yes, lovely," said Ron, and Hermione's gaze slid to his of its own accord. He wore an unreadable expression on his face, although all signs of his light, teasing mood were gone. "Not at all hideous."

"Well, I do have you to thank," Terry said, making an attempt to smile at Ron. "After all, you were the one who clued me in on the preference."

"I guess I'm just that kind of guy," Ron said shortly, giving Terry a tight lipped smile in return.

Hermione felt incredibly uncomfortable, standing there between them not saying anything. In fact, she was downright miserable. She hated that Terry had spoiled the light, easy fun of the evening, and she hated even more that she felt that way.

Terry cleared his throat. "Well, I didn't mean to interrupt your dinner, so I'll just talk to you tomorrow," he said to Hermione, clearly not wanting to leave in the slightest.

"No," said Ron suddenly. Her eyes came up to meet his, and she saw that he was studying her face closely. Then he smiled at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We were finished actually, and I was looking for a way to skip out on doing the dishes." He turned to face Terry. "You stay. I've got a busy day tomorrow and I really need to get home."

Ron moved around to the sofa and collected his jacket. "Thanks for the dinner, Hermione. I'll see you at the Burrow on Saturday," he said quickly, shrugging on his jacket and making his way to the door.

"Ron, you don't have to go," she said, not really knowing what to say. All she knew was that she didn't want him to leave. She wanted – well, she didn't know what she wanted, but seeing him walking out the door was not it.

Terry stepped over to her and put his arm around her waist lightly. "No, of course not. Why don't you stay and I'll see if I can scrounge up some dessert," he said.

Ron watched Terry for a moment, his eyes darker than they had been throughout dinner. "No, thanks. I really do have to be up early tomorrow."

His gaze slid to hers for the briefest of seconds before he turned to the door. Hermione wanted to slip away from Terry's arm, but couldn't think of a way that wouldn't seem suspicious or strange. So she stayed there, her skin feeling too small for her body, watching Ron walk out her front door.

"Goodnight Ron," she called out to him.

"G'night," he replied just before the door shut behind him.

She grew silent as the echo of the door faded into the room. Terry pulled her closer to him, and he kissed the tip of her nose.

"I really am sorry for yesterday, and I promise I'll make it up to you. How about I start with the dishes?" he asked, smiling down into her eyes.

Hermione stared back at him and found that she couldn't speak, so she simply nodded. He kissed her again and set about clearing the table. She watched him silently, only half-listening to him as he spoke about his day at work. All she could think about was how wonderful she had felt all throughout dinner, and how confused she felt right now.

She realized then, in one painfully clear moment, that things were different between her and Terry, and her and Ron, whether she wanted them to be or not. She had watched the wrong person walk out the door tonight.

She sat down in the nearest chair and rested her forehead in her hands.

Please read and review. I know the chapter only dealt with Ron and Hermione, but I wanted to get a scene in there that would help her move away from Terry, and it got a bit long. No room for Harry and Ginny today. Tomorrow maybe.


	12. Home

**Anywhere but in Between**

_Special thanks to all my readers and reviewers. You truly make my day, every day. The chapters will start to pick up now since the holiday is over. _

_Aschowin: The funny thing is, I had planned on this chapter mentioning Ginny at school and explaining a bit about what she's doing there. So stay tuned, and all questions will hopefully be answered :)_

_Tanydwr: Thank you for the great review. I think Ron is being very cool too, and I always saw him as really mellowed out when he was older. I don't know why, it just seems to fit best in my imagination._

_RonandHerm4eva: Yeah, I wanted to add a bit of fun since the last chapter dealt with all the crying and what not. I almost put Fred and George in it again, but Ron and Hermione can be quite funny on their own if left to their own devices._

_Lv3nd3r: As always, thanks for the encouraging words. I really liked the Lady and the Tramp scene for the exact reason you said. I wanted to laugh when I wrote it, but the time didn't seem appropriate, just like in the scene. _

_MidgetInGlasses: I always want Ron and Hermione to kiss any time they are in a scene together, so I feel ya. I tend to be of the school of thought that the waiting is the most delicious part, but I may throw in a little something to keep us sustained for a while. Wait and see!_

_AngelicOne: My favorite thing to write is adult R/Hr, G/H, because I think that adult friendships are so rich and amazing to write about. They have all that history, but they have to start embracing their own life as well. So confusing, but so cool at the same time. Thanks for reading, I hope you stick with this to see where they all go…_

_Anyway, Harry's coming home, so let's get on with things._

**Chapter 12 – Home**

No matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn't keep his eyes off the clock at the front of the store. And no matter how long he watched, the time seemed to be speeding along with no thought as to how difficult this all was for him.

In less than an hour, he would be going home.

He took a deep breath, his tenth of the day, and pushed away from the counter. He had to find something to keep him busy so he wouldn't have to think about anything for a while.

"Hey, my boy, what are you doing lurking near my supplies?" Tom's voice rang out merrily.

"Nothing," he replied, shoving over a box of Keeper's gloves with his trainer. "Just wondering if you needed any help."

"Aren't you due to leave in a few minutes?" Tom asked, cocking a graying eyebrow at him.

"A half-hour," he said forcefully. Even Tom was against him in this.

Tom's eyebrow practically disappeared into his hairline. "You don't seem all that pleased about getting on that train, lad. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said again.

"Don't you 'nothing' me, Harry. I'm too old to play games with you," Tom said pointedly, descending from the stepstool and meeting his eyes squarely.

"I'm just – anxious, I guess," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I haven't seen everyone in so long, I don't know what it's going to be like."

Tom waved off his comment and let out a sharp sound of mild annoyance. "Harry, these people are your family. They will be so happy to see you that there won't be any room for awkwardness or disappointment."

Harry looked up quickly. "What do you mean, disappointment?"

Tom sighed and sat on the stool, wincing a little as his bones creaked. "Come off it, lad. Just because I don't make a big deal about your 'celebrity,' should we call it, doesn't mean I don't know what you accomplished. And what you ran all the way to Bulgaria to forget. People in these parts all know who you are, Harry. They just figure if you choose to live here, there is a reason, so they leave things be."

He sighed. "Do you think they will be disappointed in me?" he asked, his voice suddenly sounding heavy to his own ears.

Tom waved him off again. "I never took you for a fool, Harry Potter. Don't change my mind so soon before you leave us for an extended vacation, or I might just forget that you aren't usually so stupid."

If spoken by any other man, Harry would have been insulted. Instead, a smile came to his face, and he felt much better about things in general.

"What time is your train?" Tom asked, pushing himself up again, wincing harder now that he'd been resting for a while.

"Four," he answered, concerned for his favorite co-worker. "Are you sure you're going to be okay around here for a few weeks?"

"I will choose to ignore such a remark. Now, I'd suggest you get going early so I won't have to tell you in great detail about the game in which I scored 400 points all on my own, with no rainguards on or anything –"

"Okay, okay," Harry laughed, dodging the small roll of spellotape Tom had chucked at his head. "Don't strain yourself, Tom. I'll go."

"Good riddance," the older man growled at his back. Harry laughed again, missing his friend already.

"Harry," Tom shouted out as he reached the door.

"Yeah?"

"Good luck, my boy."

Harry arrived at the university with ten minutes to spare before Ginny had said she'd meet him in the front courtyard. He wandered over anyway, sitting on a large bench facing the main building.

The school was impressive, that much he could say for it. He didn't quite know how

many programs it offered, but he knew that they accepted students from all over the world. Ginny had once told him that one of her classes had twenty students, each from a different country.

It all sounded so amazing to him when she talked about her classes. She was studying to become an intern at the Department of Magical Games and Sports division at the Ministry, and even though they didn't normally accept people as young as her, they had made an exception upon seeing her NEWTs. He figured that her involvement in bringing down the most powerful dark wizard of all time didn't hurt, either.

He looked around him, watching the students milling about the courtyard. He suddenly wondered what it would be like to be a part of them. They all looked carefree, as if they had the rest of their lives to figure out what they were going to do with it. He noticed a flash of red at the main doors and saw Ginny exit, a bookbag over one shoulder and a large duffel over the other.

"Hey Ginny," he greeted her as he approached.

"Hi Harry," she said, waving to some friends across the path. "Are you all set to go?"

"As I'll ever be," he said. She must have picked up on his tone, for her look softened and she gave him a small smile.

"You'll be just fine. It's just my family, not a firing squad. Wait –" she stopped herself. "Bad analogy."

He smirked, knowing that she wasn't too far off the mark. "Do you need to stop by your dormitory?"

"No, I packed last night and shrunk it all down," she replied, patting the duffel. "You?"

"I'm good."

"Tell me again why we're not apparating and saving ourselves lots of time and effort?" she asked, as they began walking toward the main city street.

Harry kept his eye out for a taxi. "I just don't like apparating much anymore. I'd rather travel."

"Maybe you want a bit more time to get used to the idea of seeing everyone again, too?" she questioned slyly, shooting him a knowing look.

He didn't refute it. There would be no point. He knew that she understood exactly what was going on inside his head, and the fact that he didn't have to explain it set his mind at ease.

At least until they were seated on the train.

He sat looking out the window, watching the milling crowd grow smaller and smaller as passengers boarded. He watched husbands and wives hugging, friends saying their farewells, and his heart began to hammer in his chest.

"This reminds me of getting on the Hogwarts Express at the end of term," Ginny said, pulling him out of his silent thoughts. "The anticipation of going home, seeing my parents again, eating my mum's cooking," she added with a smile on her face.

"Not me. I was always sorry to see the year ending," he said dryly, thinking of the Dursleys and how miserable he had been at their house.

The train lurched forward and his breath started to quicken. They were on their way, and there was no turning back now. He leaned back in his seat and tried to make himself comfortable, but his mind was still moving at such an alarming speed that it almost made him dizzy.

Ginny was looking at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "What year do you remember most fondly?" she asked suddenly. He knew instinctively that she was trying to keep his mind off things, and he was grateful. Talking was definitely preferable to thinking about all of the explanations he owed to people once the train stopped again.

He considered her words carefully, thinking back over all of the memories and experiences from Hogwarts.

"That's a tough one," he said finally, after being silent for too long. "I guess it would have to be sixth year."

"Why?"

"Probably because all of the other years ended with some kind of event that I would rather forget. At least sixth year, everyone knew that Voldemort was back, so I didn't feel like I was standing out there all by myself," he said, blinking wearily. "Does that make any sense?"

Ginny nodded, a wry smile coming to her face. "You know, it's funny, I feel the same way about that year," she said.

"You do?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah," she answered, "It was the first year that I didn't feel like I was standing out there all by myself either. You guys started to include me in things, so it wasn't just the bunch of you and Ron's little sister anymore. I felt like you all actually wanted me around."

"We never didn't want you around," he said quickly. He didn't like that she thought that was the reason they hadn't included her in things. He had always liked Ginny, and if anything, he didn't drag her into things because he wanted her to be safe. He knew that was Ron's main reason as well, seeing how he and Ginny got on better than he did with his other siblings.

"No, I know that," she said, shaking off his comment. "It was just hard, being so close to you guys and not being in on things. I mean, you and Hermione spent practically every summer with us, but no matter how often we all hung out over those weeks, when school started up again, it was like I became the distant acquaintance again."

He felt horrible. After his fifth year, Ginny had just become part of the equation seamlessly, and he hadn't thought about what it must have been like for her before that. It seemed to him that she had always simply fit.

"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly, not really knowing how to apologize for something like this.

"For what?" she asked, laughing lightly. "It was ages ago, and it's not like I cried myself to sleep over it. It just sometimes bothered me is all."

"Well, you have my permission to sock me if we ever go off without you again," he said, smiling at her.

She leaned closer to him, then struck out and punched him in the arm.

"Hey," he laughed, rubbing at his arm. "What was that for? I'm going home _with_ you, remember?"

"That was for leaving after the war was over," she said, and her playful tone disappeared altogether.

"Wait," he said in confusion, "I thought you said you understood why I did."

Ginny swung her gaze off of his and focused it on an invisible spot on the floor. "I do understand. That doesn't mean it was easy to accept. Especially when I couldn't really talk to anyone at home about what had happened."

Her words stopped him short, as he remembered the look of sheer terror on Ginny's face the night of the final battle. He remembered her bound by the cursed ropes Voldemort had fixed on her, draining her of every last bit of strength she possessed.

She was right. She was the only person who truly knew what had happened in that room that night, and he had left without so much as talking about it with her.

"You're right," he said, averting his own eyes out the window again. "I'm sorry."

They were both silent for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Harry didn't know what he could possibly say to make up for being so selfish, leaving her behind to deal with things on her own. He shifted uncomfortably again, thinking that he was lucky she hadn't socked him when they'd first met up on the trolley three months ago.

"Harry?"

He turned toward her, drawn in by the softness of her voice.

She was looking at him steadily, although her hands were twisting together in her lap. "How long was it before you got a decent sleep after that night?" she asked.

He took a deep breath, remembering with perfect clarity the few weeks after the war and how his world had turned itself upside down. "I don't know, really. I guess a month or so before I stopped waking up in the middle of the night."

Ginny nodded slowly. "Yeah, me too. I think I scared the girls in my dormitory at least half a dozen times. That was a horrible year. Everyone stopped talking to me normally, like if they spoke too loud, I'd break into a million pieces or something."

"Did McGonagall take over as Headmistress?" he asked, his chest constricting as it always did when he thought about Dumbledore falling to the floor in front of him.

Ginny nodded again. "I don't think she wanted to, though. She spent the first part of the year sort of walking around with a dazed look on her face, almost as if she was waiting for Dumbledore to return from an extended holiday. Then after Christmas break, she moved her stuff up to his office."

"Who took over as head of Gryffindor?"

"Lupin," she answered, a small smile coming to her face. "If it wasn't for him, that would have been the absolute worst year of my life. He found time to talk to me almost every day, and he even forced me to continue with the DA meetings. He said that with his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes he couldn't do it, and since I was an original member, I should oversee things. I don't know what I would have done without him."

Harry's chest tightened again. For the past few days he'd been going over what he was going to say to everyone when he got home to try and explain himself, but he'd come up blank when thinking about Remus. For some reason, he had found it hardest to keep in contact with his parents' last remaining friend. He supposed it was because Remus really was the last link he had to his parents, and he was terrified that something would happen to take him away as well.

"I'm glad you had someone to talk to," he answered Ginny, giving her an apologetic look. "I didn't think about how hard it would be for you, and I'm really sorry for being such a prat."

Ginny's smile grew slightly, and she shook her head. "You weren't being a prat. Your thoughts were just otherwise occupied."

"It's no excuse," he stated. "You're right. It was me and you in there, and no one else could understand what that was like."

She considered him carefully for a moment, then said quietly, "Well, talking about it two years later is better than nothing, right?"

"Yeah," he said, turning his gaze back to the window. "I just hope that everyone is as forgiving as you."

He felt her shift closer to him. "They will be," she stated with assurance. He kept his eyes trained out the window so she wouldn't see the fear he felt at being rejected by the people he cared about most in the world.

In the next instant, she laced her arm through his, and the continued contact of her arm against his lulled him into a sense of calm that he desperately needed.

They fell into a comfortable silence as the train rocked them along, taking them closer to home with each passing second. After a while, he felt Ginny's head fall onto his shoulder, and he turned to look at her. She was asleep, her long eyelashes fanning out onto her pale cheeks.

He watched her for a moment, his stomach lurching in an odd way that he attributed to the train's bumpy ride. He didn't move away from her even after his arm began to grow numb, partly because he didn't want to wake her, and partly because he simply didn't want to.

After about an hour, his eyes began to slide shut of their own accord. He fell asleep soon after, comforted by Ginny's warm presence against his side.

* * *

The Burrow was bursting with activity, and Ron was smack in the middle of it. Between running errands for his mother and trying to avoid Fred and George's maniacal attempts to get him to try their new products, he was kept moving all day long.

The wedding was in three days, and his mother had decided to hold a dinner for the family since it was Bill and Fleur's first night in town. He grumbled silently to himself as he headed back into the kitchen, awaiting his mother's next set of commands.

"Ron, grab the plates and set the table," she said, fussing over the countless pots and pans simmering on the stove. "I think we're going to be eleven, right? Your father, me, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Fred, Angelina, George, you, Ginny and Hermione," her mother ticked off the names at warp speed. Then she paused. "Or is Hermione bringing Terry tonight?" she asked, too casually to be natural.

He sighed. He knew his mother couldn't stand the fact that Hermione was dating someone that was not him, but no matter how many times he tried to explain things to her, she simply ignored him.

"I don't know, mum," he said dully, moving around her to collect the dishes. "I don't think so."

"Hmm."

He didn't comment on his mother's obviousness, opting instead to take the plates to the living room to set up.

As he worked, he tried to keep his mind off of Hermione. He had been thinking about her constantly since their dinner the other night, and it was starting to wear on his nerves. When he'd arrived at her flat for dinner, she'd acted so strangely. She had hugged him and held onto him as if he were going to disappear right in front of her. Even though he hadn't minded in the least, he had spent the entire meal trying to figure her out.

When she'd told him how proud she was of him, he had felt as if his chest would burst with pride. That was all he had ever really wanted, anyway. For her to be as proud of him as he was of her.

Then there was the incident after dinner. He hadn't meant for the silly game to go as far as it did, but once he'd had her trapped against the wall, he hadn't been able to move away. She had smelled so good and felt so warm up against him, that ending their teasing charade had been the furthest thing from his mind.

If he was being honest, too, he could have sworn that there was a flicker of something in her eyes then. It scared him a bit to think about what it could have been, but then again, they hadn't been able to find out. Terry had come in, ruining everything, and Ron had never hated him more.

As soon as Terry had arrived, Ron could tell that Hermione was unbelievably uncomfortable. He hated to see her like that, so he did the only thing he could do for her.

He had left.

He banged a plate down in front of a chair so loudly that his mother scolded him from the kitchen. He cursed under his breath and finished the task, knowing instinctively that there would be about five more things to take care of before everyone started arriving.

Sure enough, he was commanded to go upstairs and straighten up Ginny's room, and make sure that Bill and Charlie's old room was ready for them. Grumbling the entire way, he stomped up the stairs and decided to start with his sister's room. It was the smallest, and therefore, the easiest.

He spent a few minutes putting all of his father's Muggle gadgets into a corner to be boxed up and brought to the attic later. Looking over at the pile of clothes on the dresser, he sighed again and made his way over to straighten it up.

"Need any help?"

He turned to the doorway at the sound of Hermione's voice, and found her staring into the cluttered room with a small smile on her face.

"Hey," he said, straightening and running a hand through his hair. He probably looked a mess, having been forced into manual labor all afternoon. "You're here early."

"I figured your mum could probably use an extra set of hands, and I think I was right," she said, making her way into the room and grabbing some books off of the desk. "Where is everyone else?"

"Doing their best to avoid mum," he said dryly. She laughed, and the sound twisted at his gut. He cursed himself for having thought about her so much. Now all he could do was stare idiotically at her as she put the books away in Ginny's bookshelf.

"When is Ginny getting in?" she asked.

"Around seven or so, I think," he answered, forcing himself to not stare at her. She looked very pretty in a long, light blue dress. Her hair was down, falling in soft curls over her shoulders. He blinked twice to try and put her image out of his mind, but there she was, right in front of him, her eyes practically shining.

"I can't wait to see her," she said excitedly, looking exactly like she used to when she got an exam back she'd been waiting for.

"Me neither. It's been too long since she's been home," he said, thinking of the last time he had seen his sister. She had been gone for over a year now, and had only visited once in May for their mother's birthday.

They worked on the room in a companionable silence, and Ron did his best to keep his eyes off his best friend. She was moving about the room with the skilled practice of a certified neat-freak, and he smiled to himself. Some things never changed.

They finished with the room and made their way up the stairs to Bill and Charlie's old room. Hermione walked ahead of him, and he couldn't help but watch the gentle sway of her hips as she climbed the steps carefully to avoid stepping on the skirt of her dress. His pulse quickened of its own accord, and he silently cursed himself again. He had to stop himself now, he knew from experience, or there would be no turning back.

"So, where's Terry tonight?" he asked once they'd entered his brothers' room, more to get his mind off of her than out of any real interest as to where her boyfriend could be.

She stopped so suddenly that he almost walked into her. When she turned to face him, she didn't look as happy as she had been only moments before.

"I didn't think this was the kind of thing I should bring him to," she explained in a controlled voice. "You know, family and all."

"Ah, don't want to subject him to a Weasley family reunion dinner, huh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"No, of course not," she stated haughtily. Ron smiled, knowing that tone all too well. "Tonight is just about your family, and I didn't see any reason for him to come along. Besides, I'll be talking to Ginny all night, and that would kind of leave him out of things."

"You still taking him to the wedding?" he prodded, willing his pulse to remain steady. For the last few nights he'd had vivid dreams of dancing with her, holding her close. In the dream, Terry was decidedly not there, and he had danced with Hermione in his dreams until he woke up the next morning.

When she didn't answer right away, his heart began to hammer in his chest.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked finally, taking him by surprise. He nodded at her slowly, half anxious, half afraid of what she was going to ask.

"Why did you leave the other night when he came over?"

The room seemed to shrink in size all of a sudden, and he found it hard to breathe. How was he supposed to answer something like that? What could he say that sounded plausible, but didn't make him look like a jealous little schoolboy?

"I told you, I had to work early the next day," he said, averting his eyes to the piles of old Hogwarts clothes on the beds. He knew he couldn't look at her, because she was uncannily good at reading him.

"Oh," she said quietly. She moved over to the desk chair and sat down. "I thought it might have been something else."

"Like what?" he asked, his throat closing around the words. She was acting strangely, just as she had been the other night when he'd first arrived for dinner. He didn't dare allow himself to think it was possible, but she sounded almost disappointed.

"Nothing," she said quickly, unnecessarily straightening the papers on the desk. They were both quiet for a moment, then she straightened her shoulders and turned in the chair to face him. "By the way, I'm sorry that he interrupted dinner. I was having fun, and I know it was kind of awkward when he got there."

"I had fun, too," he said.

Their eyes locked onto each other's and held, but in the next instant, she broke the contact and rose out of the chair. He followed her with his eyes, and suddenly, he had an overwhelming desire to tell her to ditch Terry and come to the wedding with him.

"You never answered my question before," he said in a low voice. "Is Terry still coming with you on Tuesday?"

He held his breath and kept his eyes trained on her back. She wouldn't turn and face him, and for the life of him he wished she would. He wanted to see her face, to see what she was thinking.

"Of course he is," she answered finally, although she still did not turn around. "He's my boyfriend after all."

"Right," he said, the air in his lungs completely dissolving away. It was his own fault, really. He kept thinking that the little things meant more than they did, and just because she had fun at dinner while he chased her around with a piece of food did not mean that she was interested in him as more than a friend.

Suddenly, he felt like the world's biggest prat. He sighed heavily, pushing all thoughts of her out of his mind as best he could.

"Well, I suppose we'd better get going on the room," he said finally. "Mum probably has a ton of other things she needs done before tonight."

"Okay," she said in a voice so quiet that he had to strain to hear her. They worked around the room silently, keeping a very large space between them at all times.

After they were finished, they went downstairs to receive their next set of chores. Ron saw his mother working herself into a frenzy in the kitchen and chuckled at the state she was in.

"You would think the Queen herself was coming to dinner," he commented to Hermione as they entered the kitchen.

"I heard that," his mother growled as she swept past him. "Get the goblets from the cupboard and set them out. Please," she added as she realized that Hermione was standing next to him.

Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione, who grinned and walked over to the side cupboard. She

grunted slightly as she strained to reach the latch on the high cupboard.

"Why would your mum put them way up here? She's shorter than I am," she said, rising onto her toes and extending her fingers as far up as she could get them.

He walked up behind her and reached over her head to undo the latch. "Because she always makes us put them away, and it's the only room we have in here," he explained.

He didn't realize how close he was standing to her until she took a step backwards to give him more room and bumped right up against his chest.

"Sorry," they both said at the same time, moving in opposite directions to try and get out of each other's way. He stepped on the hem of her dress as she tried to take a step around him, and in the next instant, she fell right up against him.

He put his arms around her instinctively, and the second that his hands made contact with the small of her back, his heart began to hammer in his chest again.

Their eyes met again, this time holding each other's gaze much longer than before. He told himself that he should probably take his hands from her waist now that she was stable, but they didn't move. He didn't think he could move them if someone told him his life depended upon it.

The desire to tell her everything that had been racing through his head for the past week – well, past few years – washed over him again, and his throat suddenly felt dry and raw.

His Gryffindor courage came to the surface in one, sure moment, almost winding him completely. He took a shaky breath, and he saw Hermione's eyes grow a bit wider. She didn't move away, though, and although he was probably only wishing it to be so, he could swear that he saw a flicker of anticipation in her eyes.

"Hermione," he said, his voice sounding odd and distant in the otherwise silent room.

One minute she was looking directly at him, and the next, her eyes shifted slightly over his shoulder and her face suddenly went completely white.

"Harry."

An anger that he never knew existed boiled up in his veins. Here he was, about to say what he probably shouldn't be saying to his best friend, and she was calling him by their other best friend's name.

"No, Ron, remember?" he said bitterly, releasing her and taking a small step backward.

Hermione was still deathly white as she shook her head slowly, her eyes still focused over his shoulder.

He turned to see what she was looking at, and when he did, all the color drained from his own face. He felt her hand grab onto his, and he was glad for it. Without the contact, he would have thought that he was seeing things.

Ginny was in the kitchen doorway, staring with great interest at the scene before her.

Right next to her, with the same look on his face, was someone Ron had started to wonder if he'd ever see again.

Harry Potter had finally come home.

As always, thanks for reading, and please review if you have the time. Next chapter...the fallout!


	13. The Hardest Step

**Anywhere but in Between**

_Only the plot is mine. THANK YOU EVERYONE for your wonderful comments and encouragements. I feel truly blessed…_

_LegendaryRoxtar- Huggles4all- IceQueen102-AngelicOne- Bhekie- Belanna- __Kat Solo- Tina- Wackyone- Gwasshoppa-Welcome! I loved your review, and I appreciate your appreciation if that makes sense-SLynn- AWP-I fell in love with Ron and Hermione from the minute she spotted the dirt on his nose, so the majority of my writing centers around them. Thanks for the reviews! I would love to respond to each of you in turn, but I tried and realized I had already typed two pages before the story even began! So this is a general message to all of you to thank you for your support. It truly feeds my soul._

_This is going to be a shorter chapter, sort of like a bridge between where I was and where I want to be. _

_Well, on with the show._

**Chapter 13 – The Hardest Step**

Hermione gripped Ron's hand tighter, trying desperately to hold onto something real in this very surreal situation. Somehow, she had always known that this was how Harry would return to them. One day, out of the blue, unexpected and sudden.

Even armed with the secret knowledge, she still had no idea what to say or do now that he was standing right before her. A thousand emotions waged a silent war within her, all battling for release. Only by staying perfectly still could she focus on standing solidly on her feet, so she waited, hoping someone else would be the first to speak.

Her eyes remained focused on Harry. She was afraid that if she let him out of her direct line of vision even for a second, he'd disappear and not return for another two years. Her chest constricted tightly, and she swayed a bit where she stood.

Harry's eyes were shifting back and forth between her and Ron, a closely guarded expression on his face. In her head, she begged him to say something, anything, to break her out of her suspended state. She just needed to hear his voice to make this all real.

It was Ginny, however, that spoke first.

"See Harry, and you were afraid this would be awkward," she said lightly.

When no one reacted to her comment, Ginny sighed and took a step toward her brother. "I can appreciate that you are both surprised to see him, believe me, but don't I at least get a welcome home?"

Hermione felt Ron's hand pull away slowly from her own, and the emptiness was enough to snap her back to the present. She watched as Ron approached his sister, enveloping her in a hug.

Her eyes swung back onto Harry who was standing in the same spot, looking almost jealously at the scene before him. Then his eyes met hers, and the loneliness in them broke her heart into a million pieces.

Tears began to sting her eyes, and she willed herself not to cry. She would not break down like a silly little girl, no matter how much she wanted to. She would be strong and rational. She would get a hold over her emotions and do the right thing.

She walked toward Harry calmly, stopping a few steps away from him and holding his gaze with her own. "You have so much explaining to do," she said, trying desperately to keep her voice even. She knew that this was not the time to yell at him, to tell him how selfish he had been to leave without letting them know where he was going. No matter how angry she was, she also knew that coming back after all this time couldn't have been easy for him, either.

Harry's shoulders sagged as if under an invisible weight, but his eyes held hers steadily. "I know," he said quietly.

His tone was heavy with regret and loss, and Hermione found her resolve breaking completely. She had missed him with an ache that had become a permanent part of her life, and now that he was back, somehow all of the questions she wanted answered and the anger she felt toward him for leaving didn't seem as important as showing him how much she'd missed him.

She closed the remaining distance between them and slowly wrapped her arms around his neck. Once she'd made the initial contact, she found that she couldn't hold back any longer. She held onto him as best she could, and when she felt his arms go around her, holding her tightly, she blinked furiously to keep the tears out of her eyes.

They stood like that for some time, and only broke apart at the sound of Ron's voice.

"Alright, Hermione, give him some air."

Sheturned to face Ron. He was watching her closely, a concerned expression on his face. She gave him a small smile to let him know she was fine, and he nodded slightly.

Ginny walked up to her then and Hermione gathered her into her arms as Ron approached Harry. "Where on Earth did you find him?" she whispered into Ginny's ear.

Ginny broke away from her slightly, shaking her head. "Long story. Come and help me unpack and I'll tell you everything," she said, smiling at her. "Besides, I need you with me when I tell my mum that he's back. She's going to lose it, and I can't handle her on my own."

Even though she didn't want to let Harry out of her sight ever again, she followed Ginny out of the room, her heart practically bursting at the realization that they were all finally together again.

* * *

Harry watched the girls walk out of the kitchen, the pressure in his chest lessening now that he knew at least Hermione didn't hate him. If she had, she would have had no problem telling him where to go as soon as he'd walked in the door. He focused his attention back on Ron, who was staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"If you're expecting me to cry, you have another thing coming," Ron said dryly.

Harry let out a short laugh, the pressure now completely gone. He knew he still owed them about a dozen explanations, but for now, they understood.

"Not even just a little bit?" he asked, and Ron socked him solidly in the shoulder.

He winced, rubbing at his arm. "I missed you too," he said, knowing that he deserved much more than a punch to the arm. In truth, he was surprised Ron hadn't hit him squarely in the face.

"Where the hell have you been?" Ron asked, sitting down at the kitchen table.

Harry pulled out a chair for himself. "Bulgaria. I ran into Ginny about three months ago," he explained.

He waited for Ron to yell about Ginny knowing where he was for three months, but it never came. Instead, he simply stared at Harry in surprise.

"All that time, and she never said anything," Ron said slowly.

Harry was quick to her defense. "I asked her not to say anything. Things were pretty intense when I left, and I just felt like I needed some time to myself. When I saw her, though, I started to think about coming back and, well, here I am."

"Here you are," Ron repeated, shaking his head. "You couldn't have surprised me more if you had walked in here with three heads."

Harry grinned at him. "I think Ginny and I were the ones who were surprised. What happened to Terry Boot?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" asked Ron, suddenly occupied with looking out the kitchen window.

"I mean, when we walked in, you and Hermione were definitely looking – cozy," he said. "Not at all the actions of a girl who has a serious boyfriend and a bloke who's supposed to only be her best friend."

Ron cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair. "That's a conversation for another time," he said, and Harry regarded him with interest. Two years ago, the Ron he knew would have blustered and huffed about how he and Hermione were just friends, and that Harry should mind his own bloody business. Now, however, Ron appeared to have that part of his life completely in check.

It was the first sign that he had been so completely wrong in going away in the first place, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. He'd missed so much of his friends' lives by running away, and he realized he had a lot of time to make up for.

"Anyway, why are you having a go at me?" Ron continued, glaring at him mockingly. "You're the one who's been shacked up with my little sister for three months behind everyone's backs."

"We weren't shacked up," Harry said quickly and emphatically, his face flushing despite his best attempt to let the playful comment go by as just that. He watched Ron's eyes go wide, and he realized with an inward groan that he had reacted exactly as Ron used to when he'd teased him about Hermione in the past.

"Don't tell me you're interested in Ginny?" Ron asked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial level.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and he scowled at his best friend. "Don't you want to yell at me for being away for so long or something? I mean, I've been gone for two years, and I barely answered your letters," he said, searching for something, anything, to take the devilish look out of Ron's eyes.

Ron shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. "There's plenty of time to tell you what an incredible git you've been later," he said, leaning closer to him. "Right now, I want to know what your intentions are toward my baby sister."

Just then, Harry heard a glass shatter in the other room, and Mrs. Weasley's voice carried across the distance loudly and passionately.

"Harry Potter! You get in here this instant!"

Harry looked at Ron with wide, scared eyes, but his friend was of little help. Ron was staring back at him with a huge grin and glinting eyes.

"You better go, mate," he said, his eyebrows raised. "The quicker the better."

Harry pushed out of the chair and left the kitchen, hearing Ron's chair scraping behind him in his haste to follow and see what was going to happen.

When he reached the living room, he saw Mrs. Weasley standing in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips. He also saw Ginny and Hermione's feet disappear quickly around the second floor landing, and he turned to make sure that Ron wouldn't follow suit.

He was relieved to see that Ron remained in the room with him, although he was now leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, looking thoroughly entertained.

Before he could take another step into the room, Mrs. Weasley moved suddenly, disregarding the broken glass on the floor and engulfing him in her strong embrace.

"Oh, my boy," she said, her voice shaking with emotion. She squeezed him harder, and even though he found it a bit hard to breathe, it was the best feeling in the world. He relaxed into her embrace, his eyes closing.

"Are you alright?" she asked, pulling away from him slightly to look over him with anxious, tear-filled eyes. When he nodded, her fingers reached up to his forehead, brushing his hair aside tenderly.

"Welcome home, sweetheart," she said, cupping his face in her hands. Harry felt a lump rise in his throat, and before he could force it down, she had pulled him to her again, this time holding him gently in her arms.

He stayed in her arms willingly, looking over her shoulder to Ron in the doorway. The amused smirk on his face was replaced with a genuine smile, and Harry's chest constricted almost painfully with relief. There would be plenty of time for explanations and apologies later.

For now, he was exactly where he was supposed to be, and he knew he'd never be able to leave again.


	14. A Simple Touch

**Anywhere but in Between**

_I simply cannot tell you all how much you all have brightened my days, and I am not exaggerating in the slightest. I come home and see your words, and I read them over and over. Sometimes we all need a bit of encouragement, and you all have a way of making me feel so happy. Thank you._

_I am so sorry this took so long. The real world has been pressing on my neck pretty hard lately._

_Author's Note:_

_I really had quite a time writing that last chapter. I wanted Hermione and Ron to act more emotional as well, as someone pointed out, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out how to write it. I had Hermione having a fit, or stomping out, or ignoring him, but because I write in multi-point of view, I had a hard time making it work. So I compromised, and had the scene you saw. It was a bit cute, but I just thought that with him being so beloved, and gone for so long, and people seem to forgive him anything… I figured I'd go with it and see what happened. Anyway, this next chapter will get back a bit to the anger and frustration, on all their parts, since they haven't been together in a while. Also, Ron and Hermione will step it up a bit. I figure by this point, they may be blind and scared, but they'd have to be stupid too, to ignore much else. We'll see. I have some fun ideas rambling around, and we'll see where they lead._

**Chapter 14 – A Simple Touch**

Ginny couldn't remember being this happy in a long, long time. She was seated between her father and Charlie, avoiding the latter's swinging arms as he told a story about his latest rescue of an Arabian Razorback. Her family was out in full force, save one, who was still very much with them on this particular night. She smiled around the table, wondering how she had ever thought she could stay away for so long.

Her eyes fell on Harry, who was sitting next to Ron at the far end of the table. Ron was talking animatedly about the Profiling classes he was taking, and Harry was listening with almost rapt attention. She wondered what it must be like for him, hearing about all of his friends' accomplishments in his absence. She knew that the changes in her brother surprised even her, and she had been in much closer contact with him than Harry had.

Hermione was sitting across from them, every so often staring at Harry as if she were afraid he would suddenly disappear from the table. Ginny's heart went out to her, since she knew the feeling all too well. The first night they'd had dinner together in Bulgaria, she had been acutely fearful that Harry was either just a figment of her imagination or that he would get up, walk toward the door and vanish like a shadow bending around the corner.

The most amusing to watch, by far, was her mother. She was beaming across the table so often that Ginny was sure her face would be frozen like that well into tomorrow morning. Every so often, Ginny could see her mother's eyes shining brightly, although considering the overwhelming circumstances of the evening, she was holding it together brilliantly.

"Ginny, could you pass the pudding?" Bill asked, his hand enfolded in Fleur's on the table. They hadn't broken contact with each other all evening, and although Ginny found it endearing, she couldn't resist ribbing her oldest brother just a bit.

"If you would stop being so sickening with your future wife, you could get it yourself," Ginny said, although she passed the requested food at the same time. "Really, people are trying to eat."

Bill grinned, which was not a new thing tonight, and Ginny smiled at him. He accepted the bowl with his free hand and kept the other firmly around Fleur's.

"Sod off, Gin, or I'll have to relegate your duties on Tuesday," he said, spooning out the bread pudding onto his and Fleur's plates. "I can easily put Fred and George in dresses and let them take your place."

Angelina laughed, earning her a jab from Fred at her side. "Laugh it up," he said devilishly. "But you didn't seem to mind so much when I-"

"Well," Angelina announced over him, effectively cutting him off with a withering look. "I think it's time for me to get going. I have an early day tomorrow."

Ginny couldn't help but wonder, as she watched the two of them, if Fred and Angelina would be next to get married, especially as she watched him place her cloak over her shoulders with the care and attentiveness of a man completely smitten. She smiled at the thought. She had always liked Angelina, and she had an amazing way of mellowing out Fred's rather impetuous nature. He still behaved like a child most of the time, buthe was more like a twelve year old now than a five year old.

She chuckled to herself, glancing once more down the table of the people she loved most in the world. Her eyes suddenly collided with Harry's, whose were trained on her in quiet contemplation. She smiled at him, and he returned it before turning back to listen to whatRon was saying.

A shiver ran through her, causing her gut to twist in an oddly delicious way. She had felt like that all evening, whenever she would look down to where he was sitting to see if he was okay and finding him smiling and laughing.

Although, at one point, she had seen him simply sitting back in his chair, an unreadable expression on his face as he took in his surroundings. He had seemed to mentally shake himself at that point, and in the next instant, he was laughing along with George at something Fred had said.

After Fred had left with Angelina to see her home, everyone began getting up and clearing their places. Ginny moved to collect the serving plates in front of her, but her father pushed her aside.

"Go and relax for a while. My little girl shouldn't be cleaning up on her first night home," he said, tweaking her nose before picking up her plate.

Ginny smiled again, her whole body practically buzzing with a general sense of happiness. How had she found it possible to stay away so long?

She knew that Hermione and Ron had the same questions concerning Harry, but to their credit, they were allowing him time to just enjoy being home. She could see the need to know the answers to her questions burning behind Hermione's placid façade, but Ron seemed to be having a calming sort of effect on her. Ginny caught her looking at Ron periodically, who would in turn look back steadily, almost as if he were assuring her that this was real and that things were alright.

The scene she and Harry had walked in on earlier had her thoroughly curious. Hermione had some questions of her own to answer. It seemed, at least to her, that her friend and her brother had stopped simply ignoring what was going on between them. They weren't acting on it, either, but Ginny realized that just that step was a miracle in itself.

She decided to sit on the sofa in front of the fireplace, so she could remain a part of the commotion going on around her, while at the same time, giving her a bit of space to think and take it all in. She saw Ron walking over to join her, and she smiled. She had missed him more than she had realized initially. She found the changes in him quite disconcerting, but oddly, it seemed to make sense. Somewhere along the way, her brother had found himself and he had slipped into the role almost seamlessly.

"Hey, there," he said, sitting next to her on the couch. "I figure if I'm talking to you, mum won't force me to do the dishes."

She laughed, making room for him. "It's nice to know how much you care," she said, shoving him in the shoulder. "When you say stuff like that, I wonder how I could have stayed away so long."

"Why did you, by the way?" he asked, scrunching his brow up in confusion. "I mean, I know the program at the Ministry has you pretty busy, but you could have apparated home from time to time."

"Same reason you're throwing yourself into your classes. I guess I thought it was time to do something, and it was easier to just kind of put my head down and plow through," she explained, watching her mother shoo Hermione and Harry out of the kitchen with emphatic swaps of her dishtowel.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked, turning her attention back to her brother.

"Sure," he said, settling back onto the sofa in a more comfortable position. "As long as it's not about what Fred was going to say about the dress at dinner," he said, his face contorting in a look of disgust. "I think the less known about that, the better."

"Actually, this has to do with _someone_ in a dress tonight, but she looks a far sight better, I think," she said, nodding toward Hermione standing at the kitchen doorway, in deep conversation with Fleur and Bill.

Ron followed her gaze, and although his face remained passive, she could see the Weasley flush crawl into his cheeks briefly.

"What?" he asked, almost too noncommittally. Ginny grinned at him, and he cleared his throat. "Look, if you're wondering what you walked in on, I don't have an answer for you. Besides, I would be careful if I were you. At least I haven't been keeping her a secret for three months. Couldn't bear to share him, could you?" he teased, nodding his own head toward Harry.

It was Ginny's turn to follow his line of vision, and her heart constricted when she saw her father and George talking to him at the table. Her father had his arm almost protectively across the back of Harry's chair, and she found the action unbelievably comforting, even from where she was sitting.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about running into him, but I didn't want to put anything on him that he wasn't ready for," she explained finally, giving Ron an apologetic look. "I didn't want one of you to come storming into Bulgaria, demanding that he explain himself or something like that. I figured if you didn't ask, I wouldn't tell. I know it was wrong, but it was the only thing I could think of to do for everyone involved."

Ron watched her silently for a moment, then slowly nodded his head. "I guess I can understand that," he said, shrugging. "I mean, I still wish you would have told us, but I think I probably would have done the same thing if it was me."

"Thanks," she said, nudging her brother with her elbow. "You know something, you've changed a lot since I saw you last."

He pulled a face at her and she laughed. "It's not a bad thing," she amended quickly.

"Yeah, well, I guess I sort of got tired of being the only one who wasn't doing anything important with their life," he said, shrugging again. "Now, I feel like I am actually heading somewhere."

"I think it's wonderful," she said, smiling openly at him. Ron smiled back, and over his shoulder, Ginny saw Harry getting out of his seat and making his way over to them.

"Hey," he said, dropping into the chair next to the sofa. He looked a bit tired, but not like she had seen him when she'd first run into him in Bulgaria. It wasn't a bone-weary tired, that affected everything from the look in his eyes to the way he carried himself. This was simply a look of actual exhaustion, brought on from their very long day and emotional homecoming.

"You look like you're ready to turn in, mate," said Ron, apparently noticing the same thing she had. Harry shrugged, but even the small action seemed to make him even more tired.

"I'm okay," he said, and Ginny knew that the last thing he wanted to do right now was leave the comfort of the living room. She would be surprised if he ever closed his eyes again.

"It's been a long day," she said, hoping that Harry would realize that no one was going anywhere, and that it was alright to go to sleep. "I think I'm going to turn in soon myself."

"You never could hang with the big boys," Ron teased, smirking at her.

"Maybe because I never was a boy," she shot back, raising an eyebrow at him.

Harry snorted, and Ron turned to face him. "You laugh now, but did I ever tell you that when Ginny was little she used to ask mum why she was the only one in the family that had to sit down to –"

"Ron!" she yelled, covering his mouth with her hand. "You know, I take back what I said before. You are still as insufferable as you ever were!"

Harry let out a short, quick laugh that made Ron stop trying to wiggle away from her confining hand. Ginny knew that her brother hadn't heard that sound in a very long time, and took pity on him. She uncovered his mouth and watched him as he sat there, staring at Harry with an almost amazed look on his face.

In the next instant, Ron started laughing along with Harry. The sound was like music to her ears, and before she knew it, her chest constricted tightly. It had been too long since she'd heard the two of them laughing together.

She felt the need to look away, to give them a moment to share together after so long, and her eyes went to the doorway where Hermione was standing. She was surprised at what she saw. Hermione was standing completely rigid, her face pale, and Ginny could see the brightness in her eyes from all the way across the room. Her eyes were trained on them, and after a moment, she turned and walked briskly out of the back door to the yard.

Ginny got up quietly, ignoring the teasing remarks about not being able to take a bit of fun at her expense, and went after Hermione. Once she got outside, she saw Hermione sitting on a bench facing the grove of trees off the back of the house.

"Hey," she said softly, approaching the bench Hermione was sitting on. "Are you ok?"

Hermione didn't face her, but Ginny could see her shoulders sag slightly. She sat down next to her, and lightly touched her arm. "Hermione, what is it?"

"I didn't want anyone to see me like this," Hermione said, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn't want to start crying in front of Harry, and I was about to. Just seeing you guys sitting there, laughing - it was like stepping back in time."

Ginny grew quiet at her words. She knew that this was hard for Hermione, and for the rest of her family. When she had first seen Harry, it had been like seeing a ghost from her past. So she could completely sympathize with Hermione's current state.

"It wasn't just that," Hermione continued, now turning to face her. "This whole night has been so wonderful. Bill and Fleur look so unbelievably happy, and even Fred and George behaved themselves. It was the first time that everyone has been together in so long, and I'm afraid that I'm not handling it well at all," Hermione said, finally allowing the tears to fall.

Ginny's own eyes filled with tears, and she worked hard to hold them back. She moved to hug Hermione, who cried on her shoulder for a few minutes. She didn't say anything to her friend, knowing that there wasn't much she could say. Hermione was simply overwhelmed, and needed an outlet for the dozens of emotions that were circling around inside her.

After a while, Hermione's tears lessened, and Ginny felt her pulling away.

"I swear, I feel like all I've done recently is fall apart like a little girl," Hermione said, swiping at her cheeks in frustration. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done this tonight. You and Harry are home, and that's a good thing. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Ginny held onto Hermione's hand for a moment, squeezing it in support. "You have every right to feel this way, Hermione. For what it's worth, I'm sorry I had to keep Harry's secret from you. I didn't want to, but I thought it was best. As for everything else, I assure you, I was close to breaking down completely at least a dozen times tonight."

Hermione smiled at her, and Ginny squeezed her hand again. "I'm going to go inside and see if my mum needs any more help before I turn in. Do you want to come?"

"No," Hermione said, wiping her cheeks free of tears. "I think I'll stay out here for a little while and collect myself. I don't want to have a repeat performance in front of everyone."

"Okay," she said, getting up and placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Mum made up an extra cot in my room if you want to stay tonight, which I'm hoping you do. We can get up early and talk like we used to when you stayed with us."

Hermione smiled at her. "I think I might. I'm too exhausted to go home, and besides, nothing beats your mum's breakfast feasts."

Ginny rubbed her shoulder quickly before making her way back into the house. Ron approached her as soon as she was through the door.

"Where did you get off to?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "You weren't really offended by the teasing, were you?"

She shook her head, gesturing out the back door. "I saw Hermione go outside, so I went to talk to her."

The concerned look on his face deepened. "What's wrong? Is she okay?"

She smiled inwardly at the obvious devotion her brother had to Hermione. She found it almost unbelievable that the two of them hadn't gotten together in her absence. If it was this obvious to her, how could they be blind to it?

"She's just a bit shook up about everything," she explained. "This was a really busy day, and I think it simply caught up with her."

"Is she still outside?" he asked, his gaze fixed out the window in the kitchen.

"She said she wanted some time to collect herself properly," she said, knowing before he even took a step in the direction of the door that he would go after Hermione. He always did.

"I'm going to check up on her," he said, grabbing his cloak from the hook near the door. "Tell Harry I'll be up in a while."

Ginny smirked as she watched her brother go out into the yard. Sooner or later, the two of them would stop tiptoeing around things and then they could finally all celebrate. She hoped it happened before New Year's. She didn't want to lose the bet she had going with her other brothers.

She found Harry still sitting in the same spot she'd left him, his eyes half-closed behind his glasses.

"Why don't you head up to bed?" she questioned lightly as she sat on the sofa. "It's been a really long day."

"I'm fine. I'll wait until Ron turns in and head up with him," he said, blinking to keep his eyes from closing completely.

"He's out checking on Hermione. He told me to tell you to head up whenever you wanted and he'd be up later," she explained.

Harry's eyes opened, concern flooding their depths. "Is she alright?"

"She's fine. Just an overwhelming evening for her is all," she said evenly.

Harry nodded, his whole body relaxing visibly. Ginny studied him for a moment, watching the fire glinting off his glasses.

"It was pretty overwhelming for you too, I think," she said after a while, drawing her knees up toward her on the couch. "By the way, I think you handled things brilliantly."

Harry breathed deeply. "I barely made it through dinner. I had to keep pinching myself to makemyself believe that they didn't all hate me."

"I looked down the table at one point, and you seemed to be in a trance," Ginny confessed. "I swear, I thought you were going to fade away right in front of everyone."

"I was just thinking, that's all," Harry said, staring straight ahead into the fireplace.

"About what?" she asked, after he'd been silent for too long.

"Nothing in particular. Just how great it felt to be sitting at the table with everyone again, listening to them talking and laughing…" he trailed off, his voice growing faint. His face suddenly clouded, and he sighed heavily. "They all have these lives now that I know nothing about. They've all done things that are important and have changed them, and I wasn't there for any of it."

Ginny studied him as he continued to stare into the fire. He looked so lost and sad all of a sudden, and she didn't know what to say to him. He had missed it all because he had made a choice. She couldn't say anything to make him feel better about that, because it had been his decision to exclude himself from their lives.

"You're right," she said matter-of-factly. "You weren't here for any of it."

He swung his gaze away from the fire to look at her, surprised by her comment.

"But you're here now," she finished, staring at him steadily. "And that's what matters. You chose to go away two years ago, and there's nothing you can do to change that, but you also chose to come back. Now you can make up for all that you've missed, just like you did with me."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, but you were easy," he said.

She raised her eyebrows at him, and then burst out laughing. "Don't let Ron hear you say that. He already thinks we were living in sin for the past three months."

A sudden smile broke out on Harry's face. "Does he really?" he asked, amusement evident in his voice. "So that's why he was asking so many questions about my flat when you went outside before."

Ginny giggled. "Once the baby sister, always the baby sister," she surmised, shaking her head.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, watching the last few embers of the fire dwindle down to nothing. Harry yawned, and Ginny rose off the couch.

"Well, I'm going to get to sleep. I have a feeling my mum will have about a million things she'll want me to do for the wedding tomorrow, and I'm going to need all the rest I can get," she said.

Harry looked up at her, and she was sure he was going to say something, but he just nodded.

"Goodnight, Harry," she said, walking toward the staircase. As she moved past his chair, she felt his hand reach out and grab onto her arm lightly. She looked over her shoulder at him, and found his face hard to read.

"Ginny," he started, his gaze not quite reaching hers, "Thanks, for… well, for talking me into coming back and for letting me do it on my own terms."

"You're welcome," she said softly. Harry's hand remained on her arm for a long moment, in which neither of them said another word. Then their gazes met and held, and Ginny felt her pulse quicken despite herself.

He removed his hand quickly, averting his gaze back to the fireplace. "Goodnight, Ginny," he said in a low voice.

"Goodnight," she said again, before making her way quickly up the staircase. She realized she desperately needed some sleep. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn that she just saw a flicker of something more than thankfulness in Harry's eyes.

* * *

The night air hit Ron the second he left the house. He was surprised that Hermione would still be outside, seeing as how she was wearing a thin dress that barely covered her shoulders, let alone her arms.

Sure enough, when he found her sitting on the bench, she had her arms wrapped around herself. He quickly made his way over to her and put his cloak around her. She turned around in surprise, and he could see the puffiness of her eyes even in the darkness.

"Thought you could use this," he said, sitting next to her.

"Thanks," she said quietly, pulling his cloak closer around her, almost disappearing beneath it.

"Are you okay?" he asked, facing her on the bench. "Ginny said you were a bit upset before."

Hermione's back straightened suddenly, and he realized his mistake too late. She hated being thought of as a weak female who couldn't hold herself together.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice now firm and unyielding. "I just needed a bit of air, that's all."

He knew that she wasn't going to be the one to bring up Harry's return and how she felt about it. She already hated that she'd cried in front of him the night her young patient had died, and she certainly wasn't going to do it again. If Hermione was anything, it was stubborn.

Then again, so was he.

"It's strange having him home, isn't it?" he asked, doing his best to keep his voice even. He wanted to talk about this with her, but he was afraid that if he asked her how she was feeling about it, she'd storm off in a huff.

"A little," she conceded, shrugging under his cloak.

"I mean, one minute we have no idea where he is, and the next, he's standing in front of us in the kitchen," he continued.

She nodded, keeping her eyes trained on the patch of trees directly in front of her.

"At first, I didn't think I could move," he said. Now that he had started talking about it, he found that he couldn't stop. "I almost thought I was seeing things. Then when Ginny spoke, everything snapped back into focus and I realized he was really there."

Hermione didn't respond. He could tell that she was trying very hard to keep a tight rein on herself. He had seen that look so many times that he knew it by heart. Every time they had gotten into an argument in the past, she had worn that same look for as long as she could before finally reaching her limit and letting it all burst forth. He wished she'd do it now, because her silence was always a clear sign that she was truly upset about something.

"Can I ask you something?" he questioned, settling back onto the bench.

She nodded, her eyes still staring out into the dark night.

"Are you as angry with him as I am?"

She turned her head so quickly toward him that Ron was sure she wrenched it in the process. Her eyes found his in the darkness.

"What?" she asked, the surprise evident in her voice.

He smiled to himself, knowing that he had guessed right. "I said, are you as –"

"I heard you," she cut him off. "I just don't understand. You've been talking with him all night like nothing was wrong. You've been laughing with him about the silliest things. How can you say that you're mad at him when all you've done is act like nothing is different?"

"Just because I'm not yelling at him doesn't mean I'm not angry with him for leaving," he explained. "I just didn't feel like tonight was the night to lay into him for going away without so much as a goodbye."

She frowned so deeply that Ron was sure her face would be sore tomorrow. "Well, then you're a better person than me. All through dinner, all I could do was think about everything I wanted to say to him, and it just made me angrier. What does that say about me, Ron? What kind of a friend would think like that?" she asked, her voice now shaking slightly.

"A good friend," he insisted. "If you didn't care about him, you wouldn't be so confused. You'd simply hug him and welcome him home, and then get on with things."

She shook her head. "No, a good friend would do what you did. Make him feel at home again, like nothing's changed since he's been gone."

"I'm not as good as you think," he confessed in a low voice. "Every time I looked at him, I kept wondering if he'd be here at all if Bill and Fleur weren't about to be married, and if Ginny hadn't run into him in Bulgaria. When I thought about that, I almost socked him."

A small smile crossed Hermione's face quickly. "Well, at least it's comforting to know that I'm not alone in this."

"No, you're not," he said.

They both grew quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. His were centered on what Harry's arrival had put an end to, and what might have happened if they hadn't been interrupted. He shivered involuntarily at the thought of what it would have been like to finally tell her what he'd wanted to tell her since they were fourteen years old.

"I feel like so much has been changing lately," she said suddenly, breaking into the silence that had descended around them. "I'm finding it hard to keep up. Every time I think I have a handle on things, something else comes up to show me that I know absolutely nothing."

He considered her carefully. He couldn't help thinking that the situation they found themselves in earlier might very well be considered one of those things she didn't want to change. Judging from the look on her face, he was pretty sure that he was right.

She looked miserable. He had always known that change was something she didn't accept readily. Her world had always been organized and neat, and whenever anything had happened that she couldn't immediately control, she became anxious and upset.

"Not all change is bad," he said, realizing too late that he sounded like a petulant child. He averted his eyes to the darkness before him, and willed himself to keep the frustration out of his voice. "I mean, things have to change eventually, don't they? If they didn't, things would never get any better than they are."

She didn't respond right away, and he felt like slamming his head into the ground. Some day, he hoped, he would learn when to keep his big mouth shut.

"You're right," she said finally. His eyes moved up to hers involuntarily, almost as if they were drawn by some invisible magnet. His breathing became shallow, and his heart began hammering against his ribs.

"I am?" he asked, amazed that he was able to say anything at all.

She nodded slowly, a slight flush creeping into her cheeks. "I don't think that all change is bad. It just takes me a while to get used to things. I don't like feeling out of control, and when I do, it scares me."

"Me too," he said in a low voice.

They stared at each other, and every fiber in his body screamed at him to tell her. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

She looked expectantly at him for a moment, and when she realized he wasn't going to say anything, she gave him a small smile.

"Why don't we head inside. I'm freezing, and you are starting to turn blue," she said, pushing herself off the bench. "Your mum would never forgive me if you caught a cold just in time for the wedding."

He rose off the bench, mentally berating himself for his cowardice. Someday soon, he vowed himself, he'd find the courage he needed to tell her how he felt about her.

As they walked back to the house, side by side, her hand found its way into his. He held onto it tightly, wondering if she already knew what he wasn't brave enough to say out loud.

_As always, thank you for reading and for your patience with the story. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please review if you have the time!_

_In the next chapter, Hermione and Harry have a bit of a heart to heart, and she makes a final decision regarding Terry..._


	15. What Came Next

**Anywhere but in Between**

_I only own the plot_

_The reviews for the last chapter were absolutely wonderful. They have inspired me and as I read them, hundreds of ideas where this story is going came into my mind…that is the highest form of compliment I can give to you, my faithful readers. Thank you for that._

_Please keep reading. I promise that there is some really good stuff coming up. It is all fighting to get out first in the story, so we'll see where it goes off to!_

_This will be a short chapter, sort of a bridge between what has happened and what will happen coming up. It is needed for my own sanity, to kind of bring closure to a couple of things going on inside my head. The next chapter will be the big one, the wedding, so consider this a bit of a bridge to cross._

**Chapter 15 – What Came Next**

Harry found himself walking down the darkened street of Privet Drive. All of the houses on the quiet, tree lined street were abandoned, no light shining out through the perfectly polished windows. Every so often, he could hear a dog or a cat in the distance, but other than that, the night air was silent.

He stopped at number 4, and he was surprised to see a candle flickering through the kitchen windows. He walked up to the ledge, feeling the late evening dew upon the ankles of his jeans.

What he saw inside he knew was not real, and in that instant, he awoke.

He sat upright in the bed Mr. Weasley had placed in Ron's room for him. He rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands, and felt the moisture upon his forehead. He took a deep breath, assuring himself once again that it was only a dream.

He'd gotten exceptionally good at that over the years, and he felt better in a matter of minutes. He swung his legs off the bed, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness before he made his way to the door. He didn't worry about waking Ron. He was pretty sure that his best friend hadn't changed _that_ much in his absence.

When he reached the bathroom, he saw a slight movement out of the corner of his eye and his heart began hammering crazily in his chest. He took a step forward to be able to see more clearly, and found Hermione sitting on the top step of the second floor landing.

"You scared me half to death," he whispered, sitting next to her. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," she whispered back. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and she looked very small. "What about you?"

"Same," he said, nodding toward the stairs. "Do you want to go get something to drink? I don't want to wake anyone else up."

She shrugged noncommittally, but got up all the same. Harry considered her as they made their way down the stairs. She had been so quiet all through dinner and had said a very quick goodnight to him after she and Ron had come inside that night.

He knew that she was probably dying to ask him why he had left, and why it had taken him so long to return, but she was being very patient with him under the circumstances. He felt horrible knowing that he was causing her this confusion, and he promised himself to clear things up with her as quickly as possible.

Ron, he knew, would understand in his own time. They had always been like that, ever since they were fourteen. Able to read each other well enough to know that things would work themselves out when they did.

When they reached the kitchen, Harry poured a glass of water and handed it to Hermione. She accepted it wordlessly, seating herself at the table. He poured himself a glass and joined her.

"So why couldn't you sleep?" he asked, studying her face in the low light. She shrugged again, tapping her fingers against the glass in front of her.

"Just thinking too much, as always," she said finally, her voice short and curt.

"Ah," he said, taking a sip of his water. He wanted to explain things to her, and it seemed like it would have to be now. She was obviously angry with him, and he couldn't stand to be the cause of the hurt and frustration in her eyes.

"Listen, Hermione," he started, pushing his glass away from him and leaning on his elbows, "I think I owe you some answers, and I want to clear stuff up with you."

She didn't look at him, having moved on to playing with the stray strings on the placemats. All of her attention seemed focused on them, and when she didn't speak, he figured she was ready to hear what he had to say.

"When I left, I should have said my goodbyes, but it was just too hard. I didn't have any answers for anyone then, and it would have hurt everyone more if I couldn't explain myself to them," he said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. She still wasn't looking at him, and it bothered him that he couldn't see what she was thinking.

"I left because I was really messed up about everything that happened, and I was feeling suffocated. Everywhere I looked, there were reminders of what had happened, and I couldn't handle it. I wish I could have been stronger, but I wasn't, and I didn't want to poison everyone else with what was going on inside my head. I wasn't fit to be around anyone, and I didn't want people thinking that there was something they could do, or something they could say to make everything better. I just needed some time," he explained.

Hermione remained quiet, although she raised her eyes to his. In their depths, Harry could see how much he had hurt her by going away, and how angry she was at his excuses. He didn't know how to make her understand. It had killed him to leave his friends, his family, behind, but it was all he could think to do at the time to protect them.

"If you really went away to spare us all that pain," she said, her voice low and even, "then why didn't you respond when we wrote and asked how you were? Don't you think that more than two sentences was called for after you just picked up and left?"

He gripped his glass between his hands. He had wanted to write so badly, but every time he put a quill to parchment, nothing would come out. He hadn't known how to let them know that he was alright without lying to them at first, then after time had passed, he had been ashamed.

"I can't explain it any better than this," he said, looking at her helplessly. "I was not in a place to be around people, and the only way I could think of to spare you all was to remove myself from things until I was."

"Didn't it occur to you that we would worry about you anyway? That we would all be here, at home, waiting for some sign that you were alright? I don't think a day went by for about a year that I didn't think about you, and where you were, whether or not you were happy or safe, or…" she trailed off helplessly.

"When I wrote and told you that I was fine, that was about all I could write without lying. I was fine, physically. If I had written you about the other stuff, it would have worried you too much. And that was exactly what I didn't want. I wanted everyone to move on with things," he explained emphatically.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he felt like he was fifteen again, being reprimanded for not studying hard enough for his O.W.L.S. "You weren't the only one who fought, Harry. I know you were in the room with Dumbledore and Voldemort, but so was Ginny, and she had to deal with those memories and another year of school. Ron and I saw at least a dozen people die at the hands of the Death Eaters that invaded the Ministry. You weren't the only one who saw things you wish you hadn't."

He didn't say anything for a long moment, and they simply stared at one another. The anger was fading from Hermione's eyes, but it was replaced with something that hurt Harry even more. She was disappointed in him.

"Do you want to know what woke me up?" he asked, his voice barely audible in the silent room.

She kept her eyes trained on his, and he continued. "In my dream, I was walking down Privet Drive, and I looked into the Dursleys' kitchen window. There was a long table all set, and my parents were there. Right next to them was Sirius, and Dumbledore was standing off to the side. The longer I watched, the more people joined the table. Percy, Cedric, Fudge, all the students that were attacked from Hogwarts…they were all just sitting there, staring back at me as I looked through the window."

She considered him carefully, her lips tightly pressed together. Then, she leaned toward him. "I have news for you, Harry Potter. You are not the only one who lost those people. I have always felt so sorry for you that you had to grow up without your parents, but those other people were loved by so many others. You have no right to selfishly horde their deaths as if they are your losses alone."

He reeled back as though she had physically slapped him, feeling the words cut through him like a knife. He wanted to be angry with her. He wanted to shout at her that she had no idea what it was like to have seen so much death.

But as the words boiled up in his throat, one thought coursed through his brain.

She was right.

He hadn't been the only one to lose someone he cared about. In his mind, however, he'd convinced himself that because he was the only one who could fulfill the prophecy Trelawney had made over twenty years ago, he was the only one with anything to lose. He had been, as she said, selfish and wrong, and now he felt worse than ever.

He sat across from her in silence, his eyes focused on the glass between his hands.

"Harry," she said quietly, her voice shaking slightly. He couldn't look at her. His throat was thick with thick with shame.

"Please, look at me," she said, her hand moving across the table, pausing just before touching his. He raised his eyes to her slowly, afraid she'd see the shame he felt.

"I am so unbelievably happy that you came back," she said softly. "You have no idea how much I wanted you home with us. I didn't say those things to make you feel badly. I have just wanted to say them for so long, that I couldn't stop myself anymore. Now, I feel like everything is out on the table with us."

"Are you angry?" he asked, and her hand moved to cover his. She smiled at him, no trace of her previous anger in her face any longer.

"I was at first, but now that I've gotten all that off my chest, I feel better. Besides, I just yelled at you on the night of your homecoming. It would be pretty hypocritical of me to be angry with you, don't you think?" she asked, squeezing his hand tightly.

"No, especially because you were right," he said. "I want you to promise me something. If I ever get that blinded again, I want you to tell me. Immediately."

She laughed quietly, and nodded. "Deal."

They left the kitchen together, climbing the stairs to Ginny's room. At the door, Hermione pulled Harry into a tight hug, which he accepted gladly. He felt that they had come to an understanding that was a long time coming, and he felt closer to her because of it.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said quietly as she released him.

"Welcome back, Harry," she said, equally as quiet, before turning and gently opening the door to Ginny's room. Harry caught a quick glimpse of Ginny nestled under her covers, curled up on her side like a little girl. Her hair was splayed out on her pillow, and he found that he couldn't look away. His stomach twisted painfully as he watched her pull the covers tighter around her at the sound of the door.

Hermione gave him one last smile before she closed the door, and Harry made his way back up to Ron's room. He felt, for the first time in a long time, like he would actually get a good night's sleep.

* * *

"And that's why Angelina left when she did," said George conspiratorially, leaning toward Ron and Harry from behind the counter.

Ron grimaced, then spotting the horrified look on Harry's face, he burst out laughing.

"Seriously, though," George said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "It's good to have you back, Harry."

Harry didn't respond, but his face relaxed into a more natural look. Ron smiled to himself. Sharing something so trivial with him, laughing as they always did over the twins' antics, made him realize how much he'd missed his best mate.

They were in Diagon Alley with Ginny and Hermione, on orders from his mother. Ginny had to pick up her dress robes for the wedding, and Ron had been instructed to see to it that the twins had their appropriate attire for Tuesday.

Fred approached the counter, and George hurriedly changed the subject. Ron laughed as he watched Harry try and meet Fred's eye, and fail miserably. Fred shot him a look, and he shut his mouth.

"Where are the girls?" Fred asked, looking around the shop.

Harry snorted, and George grinned wickedly at his twin. He opened his mouth to say something, but dissolved into laughter before he could get a single word out.

Just then, the bell over the entrance jingled, and Lee Jordan came into the shop. He walked over to the counter, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Harry standing behind the twins.

"What the –" he stammered, pushing Fred out of the way for a clearer view. Ron held his breath, knowing that Harry could take this one of two ways. Lee was the first person outside his family that he had seen yet, and even though Harry was fond of Lee, Ron wasn't sure if Harry was ready to explain to anyone else where he'd been.

Apparently, he didn't have to worry. Lee fixed a calm look on his face and extended his hand to Harry, who shook it gladly.

"Good to see you back, mate," Lee said, clapping him on the shoulder. "It's been dull around here without you."

"Thanks," Harry said, smiling. "But I'm not so sure dull is a bad thing."

"Hey, I just saw Ginny and Hermione coming down the street," Lee said, perching himself on the counter. "Is this going to be an honest to goodness Hogwarts reunion?"

"Looks that way," replied Fred, gesturing toward the door. Ginny and Hermione entered, laughing and moving their bags out of exiting customers' way.

"Hey," Ginny said, approaching the group and placing her bags on the counter next to Lee. Her eyes were dancing merrily, and Ron wondered what the two of them had been talking about. He looked over at Hermione, who was hiding a grin as best she could. She laid her own bag on the floor next to her feet and rolled her shoulders.

"You bought something too?" Ron asked, looking down at the bag.

"Well, I needed new dress robes anyway for benefits and stuff, so I figured, why not?" she asked, shooting Ginny a look. Ginny laughed and turned to Lee, who had taken up her hand in his.

Ron saw Lee make a big show of kissing her hand, telling her how wonderful it was to see her again. Ginny rolled her eyes at him and swatted his lips away with her other hand.

"I'm going to leave these here while I go and pick up Fleur's shoes," she said to her brothers. "Do you guys need me to get anything while I'm out?"

George looked into her bag, and then grinned at his twin. "Fred, you want her to pick up one of these for you too?" he asked, lifting a sleeve of the sparkling grey dress out of the bag.

Ron and Harry laughed, watching Fred's face flush crimson before he lunged for George. As George dodged in the opposite direction, Ginny and Hermione gave them all odd looks and left the shop.

* * *

Ginny listened attentively as Hermione told her all about her and Harry's midnight conversation in the kitchen. She was amazed that Hermione had finally gotten the courage to tell Harry what she'd wanted to tell him for years.

"It felt so good to get it all out there," Hermione admitted as they walked down the street to the shoe store. "And I have to say, I'm glad that he didn't bite my head off. I don't think I would have been able to handle it with the mood I was in last night."

"You know, if it weren't for the scene we just left, I'd have to say that our boys are finally growing up," Ginny commented lightly, thinking how different both Harry and Ron were now that they were older. In the past, Harry would have stormed away from Hermione, and given her the silent treatment for a few days before just forgetting about it completely.

"I know," said Hermione with a small smile. "Sometimes it scares me just how much your brother has matured."

She gave Hermione a look out of the corner of her eye before stopping completely in the road. "Okay, I have to ask you. Are you going to dump Terry any time soon and just snog my brother already?"

Hermione's face flushed, but she did not avert her eyes. Ginny took it as a positive sign.

"Terry is my boyfriend, and he cares about me very much," Hermione reasoned. "And I care about him."

"Fine," Ginny responded with a wave of her hand. "But caring about him isn't the same as being in love with him. Are you in love with him?"

"I don't know. It's only been three months. How do you know if you're in love with someone after only three months?" Hermione asked, sounding very confused.

"I was always under the assumption that you just knew," she replied, thinking of what Bill had told her about falling in love with Fleur. He had said that the day that he knew it, it was like a curtain had lifted that didn't allow him to look at her in the same way. There had been no doubts, no turning back. She sighed, wondering if that's how it would be for her, if it ever happened.

Hermione looked at her skeptically. "I think that's a bunch of romantic fluff. That's why they call it _falling_ in love. It takes time to know a person that well, don't you think?"

Ginny smirked at her. "Well, what if you already know the person that well? What then?"

Hermione didn't reply as they continued on toward the store. Ginny felt like pressing the issue, but judging from the look on Hermione's face, the conversation wasn't going to go far.

"So, the purchase of those gorgeous dress robes was solely for Terry's benefit?" she asked, knowing full well that they weren't. When they'd left the dress shop, Hermione had made a comment about how Ron probably wouldn't recognize her, just like he hadn't in their fourth year when they'd attended the Yule Ball.

Hermione glared at her as they entered the shoe store. "You are evil, you know that?" she said.

"Yup, but that comes with the territory when you grow up in the Weasley household," she shot back, grinning at her.

More to come, I promise. This needed to be done to show the next day after the return home, and I felt it necessary. Next up, the wedding.


	16. Lifting the Veil

**Anywhere but in Between**

_I only own the plot. Well, we're on a roll, so let's keep going, shall we?_

**Chapter 16 – Lifting the Veil**

Ron rubbed wearily at his eyes. It was the afternoon of the wedding, and his mother had woken him shortly after dawn to begin setting up. He'd been moving nonstop ever since, from time to time catching a glimpse of one of his brothers, looking equally exhausted.

He and Harry had set up all the tents and pavilions in the yard, and they were now working on the candles and lights that were needed in both. They were trying to hurry, since they were under strict orders to be done in the next few minutes.

"I don't think I've ever seen your mum this –" Harry trailed off, searching for the appropriate word.

"Insane?" Ron supplied, waving his wand at a set of candleholders in the corner. They zoomed into place, and Ron attached the candles. "I swear, if she doesn't calm down, the whole house is going to turn on her."

Harry laughed. "Well, this is her first child's wedding. I think she gets at least a small grace period."

"Sure, take her side," he grumbled good-naturedly. "Just because you're her favorite…"

They were done sooner than they'd expected, so they snuck off to find Bill and see how he was faring. They found him in the living room with Charlie, looking pale and nervous.

Charlie spotted them, and waved them over. "Ron, can you inform your brother that Fleur will indeed show up this afternoon and to get a grip, please?" he said, looking thoroughly put-out. "I swear, if he tells me one more time how much better she deserves, I'm going to haul off and slug him."

Harry laughed, and Ron considered his oldest brother. Bill had always been the epitome of cool, always letting things slide right off him if it became too intense. He had never seen Bill lose his composure, and it was strange to see him this way now.

Just then, their father entered the living room, and spotting his oldest son's face, he took him gently by the elbow. "Go on, lads. Your mum has quite a bit more for you to do. I'll take care of this," he said, tugging Bill toward the stairs.

"Are you going to give him the talk?" Charlie yelled after them, causing Harry to laugh even harder. Bill turned on the stairs to glare at them, but Ron could see the bright redness of his cheeks and he laughed along with Harry.

Charlie faced them and grinned. "I couldn't help it. He's so tightly wound right now, I didn't know what else to do."

For the next hour or so, they all worked on the tremendous list of things to do that their mother had posted on the kitchen refrigerator. Ron didn't see any of the girls' names listed next to any of the chores, and when he pointed this out to his mother, she practically bit his head off.

"They have enough to do with helping Fleur, so don't you concern yourself with them," she snapped, bustling about the kitchen, preparing food for over fifty people. Now, get to the rest of that stuff on the list. Fleur's family will be here within the hour, and then you all have to get cleaned up."

Ron grumbled to himself as he went back outside with Harry. "What, the girls need five hours to get ready?" he asked, thinking it was thoroughly unfair that they were omitted from the dirty work of this glorious day.

Harry shrugged, watching Crookshanks tear by in pursuit of a garden gnome. "What's next on the list?" he asked, looking completely fine with the fact that he was essentially a slave to the whims of his mother today.

"Setting up the chairs, and making sure Fred and George have set up the pavilion for the ceremony," he said grumpily, looking at the tall stack of chairs lying in wait for them.

About an hour later, they saw a large group of people making their way across the yard toward the house. They were all stunning, with shining hair and perfectly chiseled faces.

"I think Fleur's family just arrived," Harry said, nodding in greeting as the group approached.

"Good afternoon," said the man who Ron assumed was Fleur's father. "I'm Pierre Delacour. You must be Ronald."

Ron shook his hand, surprised that the man knew who he was. "Yes, I am. Pleased to meet you."

"My daughter Gabrielle pointed you out, as she did you," he continued, now looking over at Harry. "Harry Potter, I presume?"

Harry nodded and shook the man's hand. Fleur's father smiled at him then introduced the rest of the people behind him. "This is my wife, Marie, and you know Gabrielle, of course." He continued the introductions of the other family members, but the names eluded Ron as soon as Mr. Delacour moved onto the next person.

He saw a tall girl emerge from behind her father, and Ron could have sworn that he was in a time warp. Gabrielle, who had only been seven when he'd seen her last, now looked exactly as Fleur had when she had come for the Triwizard Tournament.

"It is good to see you again," she said in a light, melodic voice that traveled over him like a peaceful wave. He had to remind himself that although she looked like a grown woman, she was only about fifteen or so.

He didn't have to worry, though, because she wasn't even speaking to him. Her eyes were trained solely on Harry, and Ron grinned. There didn't seem to be any end to Harry's magnetism as the hero. Gabrielle was looking at him exactly how Ginny used to look at him when she was a young girl. As if Harry were a white knight on a horse that had come to save her from all the evils of the world.

Harry cleared his throat, and Ron grinned to himself again. Harry had never been good with the idol worship of girls, and it looked like that still held true. He was smiling politely at Gabrielle, who was blushing under her flawless skin.

"Well, my parents are inside, and Fleur is upstairs in Ginny's room. It's the second bedroom on the second floor," Ron explained. Fleur's mother smiled at him graciously, and rushed ahead to see to her daughter on her wedding day. She ordered Gabrielle along with her, and with one last longing look at Harry, she obeyed her mother, turning around several times on her way inside. Fleur's father led the rest of the family into the house, leaving Ron and Harry among the countless chairs.

Ron smirked at the look on Harry's face. "Harry Potter, you're my hero," he said in a high, falsetto voice, which earned him a solid punch in the shoulder.

After all the work was done in the backyard, they headed back to the house to get themselves ready. The ceremony would be starting in a little over an hour, and Ron knew that if they weren't ready at least a half-hour early, his mother would have kittens.

They took turns in the bathroom cleaning up, having to fight off Fred and George who were trying to get in there as well. Ron found his midnight blue dress robes laid out on his bed when he reached the room after his shower, and saw that Harry was already dressed in his old green robes from the graduation dance.

"I thought I wasn't ever going to have to wear these again," Harry sighed, tugging at the loose cuffs around his wrists.

"I know," Ron agreed, putting on his own robes. "Whoever invented dress robes should be cursed into oblivion." He ran a comb through his hair, trying to get it to behave for one evening at least, and finally giving up, they headed downstairs.

As they passed by the second-floor landing Ginny's door opened, and Hermione emerged. She was dressed in flowing robes of a soft, pale green, fitting to her slender body on the top and swirling around her ankles as she moved to close the door behind her.

Ron's breath caught in his chest as he took in her appearance. Suddenly, he was ready to change his former opinion of dress robes.

She was positively stunning. Her hair was done up in an elegant twist, and a few curls had escaped near her ears. She wore practically no makeup, but he had never thought she needed it anyway. Her face was glowing, and when she spotted them, she smiled. The breath that was stuck in his chest escaped, although he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"Hi," she said, her voice high and excited. "Fleur is all ready, and she looks positively stunning. I can't wait to see Bill's face when he sees her coming down the aisle."

"You look great, Hermione," Harry said into the silence that followed her words. "Doesn't she, Ron?"

Ron nodded dumbly, earning him a jab in his side by Harry. "Yeah, great," he said. He tried to keep his voice level, since it was one thing to be crazy about her, and another entirely to make himself look like a drooling fool at her feet in front of Harry.

"Thank you," she said, smiling softly. "You guys look nice, too." She had addressed both of them, but her eyes were trained on his face alone.

"Thanks," he said, swiping away the invisible wrinkles in his robes. "So do you."

Harry groaned behind him. "Hermione, do you want to come downstairs with us?" he asked, shoving him toward the stairs.

"Sure. I have to meet Terry outside in a few minutes," she said, averting her eyes from Ron's quickly.

The hazy bubble he had been floundering in suddenly popped, reality crashing in harshly. He had forgotten all about Terry. His fists balled at his sides as he thought about Terry being the reason she looked so amazing.

"Okay," said Harry, intervening quickly. "Let's get going then." He gave Ron another shove, and they headed down the stairs.

Hermione headed outside as soon as they reached the ground level, and Harry turned to him.

"Are you going to be okay tonight?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "You should have heard yourself upstairs."

"I'll be fine," he grumbled, thinking of Hermione dancing in Terry's arms all night. "Come on, I have to go find my brothers." He stalked off in search of anyone from his family, Harry following him with a heavy, weary sigh.

* * *

Harry had to admit, the backyard looked amazing once the sun began to set and the candles were lit. A low, soft light surrounded everyone as they sat waiting for the ceremony to begin. He saw Ron and his brothers all standing patiently next to Bill, who was shifting from foot to foot every so often, wiping his hands down the sides of his jet black dress robes. He laughed quietly as he saw Charlie roll his eyes and put his hand on Bill's shoulder to try and calm him down.

Hermione nudged his side, chiding him wordlessly for the slight noise she heard coming from him. She was seated next to him, Terry on her other side. Harry had only had a few minutes to talk with Terry before they were told that the ceremony was about to begin, and Harry found him very much the same as he had been in school. Once Terry's shock had worn off from seeing him again, he had politely engaged him in conversation about Bulgaria. Terry had always been an unflinchingly polite person, and Harry wondered if Hermione wasn't starting to grow weary of it.

She had always been surrounded by people who were yelling about one thing or another, and he knew that even she enjoyed a good spar now and then. Terry seemed too tame for her, and although he knew that he was biased, he couldn't help think that Ron was so much better suited for her than Terry ever would be.

The strains of soft music began then, and all eyes swung around to the back of the yard. Gabrielle glided down the aisle, her shining grey dress moving silently with her. When she passed Harry, she gave him a quick look, and he averted his eyes quickly. Hermione smirked at his side, nudging him slightly again. Then, the smirk changed into a genuine smile, and Harry followed her line of vision.

Ginny was making her way down the aisle, clutching a bouquet of red roses enchanted to sparkle along with her dress.

Harry tried to breathe in, but he couldn't. Somewhere along the line, he'd forgotten how.

She was getting closer to where he was seated, and the closer she got, the harder he found it to breathe. Her silky red hair cascaded over her shoulders in countless waves, and with every step she took, her dress swirled around her, sending off a shimmer in every direction.

She appeared to be a walking beam of light, and it made him feel almost ill. His stomach was twisting painfully, and he felt clammy and cool. She passed him without so much as a glance, but he didn't take his eyes off her. He knew his attention should be focused on the back of the yard, waiting for Fleur's entrance, but it was out of his hands. He followed Ginny's procession down the aisle until she reached her brothers and turned to face the entranceway.

Her eyes slid over the crowd, and when they fell on him, he told himself that he should look away before she noticed that he was staring at her.

He didn't move.

Their eyes met, and the most serene smile crossed her face. He blinked, trying to tell himself that it was a trick in the lighting, or that it was all the silliness of the wedding that was making his heart race this uncontrollably.

Still, he didn't move.

He only turned away when he saw everyone rise, and Hermione tugged on his arm to get him to stand up. He looked back at the entranceway, and saw Fleur starting down the aisle on her father's arm. She was unbelievably beautiful; the look on her face making her lovelier than Harry had ever seen her. Her eyes were focused toward the end of the aisle, fastened on her soon-to-be husband.

The ceremony itself was quick, ending about fifteen minutes after it began. The head wizard who had overseen the proceedings presented Mr. and Mrs. Bill and Fleur Weasley, and everyone began clapping as Bill enthusiastically kissed his beautiful bride.

Harry heard Mrs. Weasley sobbing from two rows in front of them, and he saw Mr. Weasley's arm go around his wife. As the new couple made their way back down the aisle the crowd stood, still clapping. Harry saw Hermione fighting valiantly to keep her own tears at bay, and he laughed when he saw Fred wiping at the pretend tears on George's face as they followed their brother and his wife down the aisle.

Ron grinned at him as he walked by with Ginny, but his smile faltered when his eyes shifted and he saw Terry's arm around Hermione's waist. Harry didn't notice much, however, since his vision was completely encompassed by Ginny's stunning smile.

The reception was in full swing about thirty minutes later, although Harry kept clear of the dance floor. Fred and Angelina were dancing wildly, their arms flailing about, earning reproachful looks from Mrs. Weasley.

"Aren't you going to dance at all?" Hermione asked, cradling a small plate of food in her hands. "You always were a pretty good dancer."

"I don't think so," Harry said, shaking his head. "I only danced when you forced me to."

"Well, maybe I'll force you again," she said, waggling her eyebrows.

"Please, don't," he said, casting her a look which she laughed at. She took pity on him and contented herself by swaying to the music as she picked at her food.

"Where did Terry get off to?" he asked, looking around.

"He's talking to Charlie. He's fascinated by the amount of scars that Charlie has from working with dragons," she said, sighing as if she were long-suffering. "Once a healer, always a healer."

Harry's eyes continued to slide over the guests, but stopped when he saw Ginny talking with a younger man off to the side of the buffet table.

"Who's that?" he asked, realizing too late that his voice sounded odd and tight. Hermione gave him a look before she followed his gaze. She raised her eyebrows at what she saw, and smiled.

"I think it's one of Bill's co-workers," she said, her tone indicating her amusement. "What's wrong, Harry? Can't she carry on a conversation with a handsome fellow who appears to be interested in her?"

"Of course she can," he grumbled. "What are you on about?"

"Nothing," she replied lightly, although she turned away from him as she began to smile.

"Excuse me," a voice said from behind them, and Harry turned. A woman that looked very much like Fleur was standing before them, her very blue eyes smiling into his. "I don't mean to intrude, but are you Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded, feeling self-conscious as always at the light scar on his forehead.

The woman smiled, transforming her already lovely face into one of incomparable beauty. Harry reminded himself that if she was related to Fleur she was part-veela, and he gave himself a mental shake to keep his wits about him.

"I'm Fleur's cousin, Alienne," she said, extending her hand to him. "Fleur has told me much about you and your friends."

Harry took her hand, and for a crazy second, he wondered if she was expecting him to kiss it. He looked over at Hermione, who was studying the woman with an even stare.

"I was wondering if you would care to dance." Alienne asked, her shining hair falling into her face slightly as she ducked her head demurely.

"Uh," he stammered, trying to come up with an excuse to remain where he was. She was unbelievably pretty, but he didn't want to make a fool of himself on the dance floor for anyone at this point. "I would, but I don't want to leave Hermione here all by herself."

"Go on, Harry," prodded Hermione. "I have to go and rescue Charlie from Terry anyway," she added, a devilish glint in her eyes.

Harry tossed her a look that she chose to ignore as she backed away from them, wiggling her fingers in a small wave at him.

"Well, what do you say, Mr. Potter?" Alienne asked, her voice lilting and breathy. He nodded at her, and followed her onto the dance floor. She picked up his hand and placed hers on his shoulder.

"I must confess, when Fleur told me you were going to be here tonight, I couldn't wait to meet you," she said, steering him around the floor. "I wanted to see for my own eyes the person who single-handedly saved us from You-Know-Who."

Harry sighed inwardly, not liking the direction this conversation was going in. "I didn't save anyone single-handedly," he commented shortly, trying to convey with his tone that he didn't much care for the topic.

"Oh, and modest, too," Alienne said in a low voice. "You are much more handsome than I thought you would be. Of course, Fleur was quite taken with you when she went to Hogwarts years ago. As is Gabrielle," she added, pointing over his shoulder. Harry turned, following her gesture, to where the young girl was standing, staring out at them with a look of pure jealousy on her face.

"Gabrielle has practically every article ever written about you in a scrapbook," Alienne continued, moving closer to him as they danced. "I would never do anything quite so childish, but I admit, now that I've met you, I understand why she did it."

Harry felt the air around him closing in. He had never met a woman so forward before, and even though she was beautiful, he found it off-putting. His eyes roamed the crowded floor for a possible way out of this awkward situation, and he found Ginny dancing with the man she'd been talking to at the table.

Suddenly, he very much wanted the situation to be reversed. He wanted to be with Ginny, comfortable in knowing that she wouldn't make him feel like an animal in the zoo, to be stared at and admired behind a plate of glass.

He watched her move around the floor in the arms of Bill's co-worker, and a nagging feeling pulled at his gut. She appeared to be having a wonderful time, if the smile on her luminous face was any indication.

He glanced back at Alienne, who was looking at him with an open look of appreciation on her face. He found himself comparing her to Ginny, and although Alienne was part veela, he couldn't get Ginny's face out of his mind.

He looked over her shoulder and saw Ron raise his glass to him from the side of the floor, a huge grin on his face. He took it as an out, and broke away from her gently. "I have to excuse myself. Ron is calling me over," he explained, gesturing toward Ron, who was now looking slightly confused.

"Oh, very well," Alienne said, disappointed, before she fixed a smile on her face and touched his arm. "Go if you must, but I am reserving another dance before the night is over."

"Okay," Harry said, moving away from her as quickly as his feet would carry him.

Ron looked at him strangely as he approached. "What is wrong with you? She's gorgeous, mate," he said incredulously.

"And only interested in the Harry Potter she's read and heard about," Harry grumbled, swiping Ron's drink from him and downing it in one large sip. "That was the most uncomfortable dance of my life."

"Who cares?" asked Ron, baffled by his reaction. "She's bloody gorgeous."

"So you've said," he replied sarcastically. "I just don't want to spend the evening hearing her praise all of my 'heroic' deeds, if you don't mind."

Ron shook his head at him. "You've been too long without a girl, Harry. A beautiful woman is throwing herself all over you, and you brush her off without a second thought."

"Well, then, if you think she's so great, why don't you ask her to dance?" he pushed, waving his hand in Alienne's direction.

Ron rolled his eyes at him. "Sure, because she'd really go for me if she's so hung up on you. I'll spare myself the rejection, thanks."

The song that was playing ended, and Harry saw Ginny excuse herself from her partner and make her way to the tent that housed the refreshments. He noticed that the guy she was dancing with didn't follow her, and suddenly, he wanted very badly to talk to her.

"Ron, I'm going to go get a drink. You want a refill?" he asked, grabbing the empty glass off the table.

"Yeah, anything's fine," Ron replied, his eyes fixed on the far corner of the room. Harry followed his gaze and saw Hermione and Terry standing very close, talking in what appeared to be hushed voices.

"I'll be back in a minute," Harry said. Ron nodded, not taking his eyes off the couple across the room.

When he entered the tent, he found Ginny alone, fixing herself a drink. "Hey," he said, announcing his presence.

"Hey yourself," she said, smiling at him. "Having a good time?"

"Yeah," he replied, moving to stand next to her. "You?"

"Oh, I'm having a blast," she said, taking a long sip of her drink. "Bill and Fleur look so happy, don't they?"

"Yeah," he said again. He wished he could sweep in with some grand line, one that would have her looking at him with the same soft smile that she had given to her dance partner.

"I saw you dancing with Fleur's cousin," Ginny continued, although this time, her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "She's absolutely gorgeous."

Harry shrugged. "I guess, but she's not all that interesting," he said.

"I thought guys didn't care whether women were interesting or not, as long as they looked like that," Ginny said, raising an eyebrow at him. "Surely she couldn't have been that boring."

He frowned just thinking about the conversation on the dance floor. "I wasn't bored as much as I was uncomfortable. It was almost like she was trying to figure out whether or not I was real, and it bothered me."

"Harry, every woman you meet is going to be in awe of you at first," Ginny reasoned, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. His eyes followed the motion, and for the tenth time that night he realized just how beautiful she was. "You are, after all, a very well-known person."

"But it makes me feel like I'm being studied under a microscope," he said, watching a look of confusion cross her face. "It's a type of equipment that lets you see things incredibly close up," he added in explanation.

A look of sympathy replaced her confusion and she gave him a small smile. "You know, most guys would kill to be in your position. They would use the past as bragging rights to impress women that look like Alienne."

She paused, then placed a hand on his arm. "I'm so glad you're not like that. It makes me even more proud of you than I already am."

His skin felt electrified where her hand rested, and he looked up from it to meet her eyes. "I saw you dancing, too," he said, forcing himself to keep his voice even. "A friend of Bill's, right?"

She removed her hand, and his arm felt suddenly cold. "Yes," she said, picking up her drink again. "He's a junior member of Bill's decryption team."

"Your brothers didn't seem too concerned about you dancing with him," Harry commented, feeling that if the Weasley men weren't going to look out for her, he would just have to do it himself.

"They don't have any reason to be," she said, smiling. "We were just dancing, and he's perfectly harmless. He seems really nice, too, although I think he was trying too hard. He kept telling me that I was being unfair to Fleur, taking away the attention that should be on the bride. It kind of sounded silly after a while."

He frowned at her again, but kept his opinions to himself. Ginny turned toward the entrance to the tent, and she watched the couples dancing by. A smile lit her features suddenly, and Harry turned to see what she was looking at.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were dancing together, looking intently at each other as if they were teenagers all over again.

"Makes you wonder," Ginny mused aloud.

"What?" he asked, studying her closely. She looked so at peace, so happy, that the beauty he had seen in her face all night seemed magnified a hundred times over.

"Do you think you'll ever have that?" she asked quietly, gesturing toward her parents.

Harry considered her question, and realized that he had never, not once, thought that he would have that. "Do you?" he asked, equally as quiet.

"I hope so," she answered, still smiling at her parents. "They amaze me. They've been married for thirty years, and they are more in love with each other now than they've ever been. I can't imagine someone loving me half as much as they love each other."

He stood there, looking at her for what seemed like forever. His gut twisted painfully again as he watched her watching her parents dancing, the softness of her features accented by the low lighting in the tent.

It was then that he realized he was in serious trouble. He was attracted to Ginny, more than he'd ever been attracted to anyone in his life. Just being this close to her was making his thoughts fuzzy, and he set his drink on the table. It was as if somewhere inside him, something had shut down, now making him incapable of turning off all the thoughts he'd been having of her for the past few months. He had thought he'd been getting good doing it, too. Every time she laughed, or touched him in some small way, he had pushed things so far down that he was able to see clearly.

Not anymore.

Standing here with her, just the two of them, he couldn't switch it off. His whole body was reacting to her nearness, and when she turned to look at him, the softness of her smile was his undoing. Her lips drew his gaze, and he took a step toward her without even realizing it.

George entered the tent just then, spotting them and throwing an arm around each of their shoulders. "What are you two doing in here all by your lonesomes?" he asked, a tipsy smile on his face. "You should be out there dancing."

Ginny's eyes met Harry's, then averted to the tent opening. "George, Harry doesn't like to dance, remember?"

"That's bullocks," George sputtered. "Harry just hasn't had the right partner. Although that little French number he was dancing with earlier was pretty damn close." He turned to face Harry and tightened his arm around his neck. "By the way, I was thinking of giving her a dose of the old Weasley charm, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead," Harry answered, his eyes still on Ginny.

George grinned at him. "Yeah, I didn't think you would mind so much. Now, go and give my baby sister a whirl around the floor, would you?" he said, pushing the two of them toward the tent opening. "I've got a couple of cocktails to whip up for a very special lady."

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother, and led the way out of the tent. "That woman has no idea what she's in for," she said, shaking her head.

They stopped at the edge of the floor. Ginny looked over at him, and laughed lightly. "You don't have to dance with me, Harry, so you can stop looking so worried."

"I'm not worried," he said quickly.

In truth, he was terrified, but not of dancing. He was terrified of being close to her, and having her realize just what was going on inside his head.

He saw Bill's friend looking at them from across the floor, and as soon as Harry saw him take a step in his direction, he made his decision. He couldn't stand by and watch this guy hold her, not when it was what _he_ wanted to do more than anything right now.

"Come on," he said, extending his hand toward her. She looked at him in surprise for a moment, before slowly placing her hand in his. He walked her onto the floor, and when he turned to face her, he saw something flicker briefly in her eyes.

He put his other hand on her slender waist, and she put hers tentatively on his shoulder.

"I'm not very good at this," he said apologetically. "I'm just warning you now."

She smiled up at him, and all rational thought fled his mind. "I'm not very good either," she said lightly. "So I guess we'll figure this out together."

He pulled her closer to him as they began to move slowly, barely moving their feet in fear that they'd step on each other's toes. At one point, Ginny stumbled a bit to her right, and Harry's arm tightened even more around her. She laughed, her cheeks flushing briefly. "See?" she said, wrinkling her small nose. "The Weasley curse. Two left feet."

He didn't care if she broke every bone in his body, as long as she remained where she was. He could feel her body up against his, and he had to give himself a mental shake to be able to reply.

"If you keep making fun of yourself, the dance is over," he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Okay, okay," she said, tightening her grip on his hand when he started to pull away slightly. "I'll just make fun of you then."

He smiled down at her, feeling his emotions spin crazily out of his control. His hand moved from her waist to the small of her back of its own accord, and he felt her shudder slightly.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"No," she said quietly, moving even closer to him. He inhaled sharply, feeling the warmth of her body through his clothes.

This was dangerous, and he knew it. Yet, he couldn't stop himself. There was really no choice, not anymore. He wanted her, and he wanted to be near her.

"Ginny?"

"Hmm?" She slid her gaze over to his, and he lost himself in the smoky grayness of her eyes.

"I know I've said it already, but I wanted to thank you for forcing me to come back here," he said in a low voice.

"I didn't force you to do anything, Harry. You made the decision on your own," she said softly, letting her hand fall down his arm to his elbow.

"No, I wouldn't have come if you hadn't asked," he said, feeling the fuzziness invading his brain again. Her touch was sending shivers up his arm, and he pulled her a fraction of an inch closer.

Another soft smile was her only response, and after a while, their faces grew closer to each other. She put her cheek lightly against his, and the slight contact was enough to send him over the edge.

There was no denying it any longer. Ginny was firmly under his skin, and he didn't want it any other way.

* * *

I wanted to get the whole wedding done in one shot, but Harry and Ginny wouldn't cooperate. I decided to split it up into two parts, to give Ron and Hermione their own time. It's only fair…

**_Please_** keep reading, and if you feel like doing so, please review. I love to hear from you all.


	17. No More Excuses

**Anywhere but in Between**

_Only own the plot. _

_Thank you, thank you, thank you to my readers. Kiyomisa, wackyone, AngelicOne, Belanna, you are all so loyal and I look forward to hearing what you have to say about my story._

_Illusions Industry, thank you for the wonderful compliment! Gwasshoppa, RonIsMine I really love that you are both enjoying the Harry/Ginny story. They really are becoming some of my favorite scenes to write. Ronandherm4eva, I appreciate that you liked Hermione's rant to Harry. I felt it was long overdue, and I enjoyed writing it. Crazayladay, great review! I laughed like crazay when I read it. Eckles, I would love to work in a Ron/veela dance, it may make an appearance in this chapter. Krazylikeafox, Insanityoftheowl, wdge, LegendaryRockstar, thank you for your wonderful words. Thanks for sticking with this. Localizy, I can't imagine having a relationship like Ron/Hermione's going on, so my sympathies and prayers to you! LJFan- I am honored that you stopped in to read and went the distance with this. I love hooking new reviewers, and your comments were so appreciated. _

_I am figuring on this lasting for about 20 chapters, so we might be almost done. But, keep an eye out for me. I have about three more stories trying to get out in my head. _

_I am truly sorry that the chapters are coming about a week apart. But, the timing is off when I can get on my computer, and then I can't spend a lot of time on it. I really work hard to get quality, so I don't like to just type anything and then send it out. It takes a week because I read it, re-read it, and make my corrections where needed. Sometimes it takes me the whole week to get it written anyway! I love that you all want it soon, and it spurs me on. I really will try. The break coming up should give me some good, old-fashioned time to spend on this and other stories. But I'm finishing this first!_

**Chapter 17 – No More Excuses**

Ron watched Hermione and Terry from across the yard. He tried to look away at least a dozen times, but it was no good. He wanted to know what they were talking about so intently. He had half a mind to go and dig up one of Fred and George's extendable ears, but he rejected the idea when he thought about how angry Hermione would be if she found out.

He smiled to himself, thinking about the brilliant row they could have over something like that. They hadn't had one of those in a long time, and even though he knew now that most of their arguments had been childish and pretty much his fault, he couldn't help but remember how fetching she looked when she was thoroughly angry with him.

Their conversation appeared to reach its end in the next instant, and his hands balled into tight fists when Terry leaned down and kissed Hermione softly on the lips.

He reached for his drink, and when his hand closed around air, he remembered vaguely that Harry had gone to get him another one. He looked around for Harry, needing the drink very badly, and when he didn't spot him, he decided to go and get one himself. Maybe he'd get two. Or three.

He began weaving his way between dancing couples across the floor. His father stopped him just before he reached the other end, grinning exhaustedly at him.

"There you are, my boy," he said, clasping his shoulder. "I haven't seen you all night!"

"I've been around," Ron said, trying very hard not to look back in the direction of Hermione and Terry.

"Well, your mum wanted me to let you know that she really appreciates everything you did today to get this all set up. It looks great out here, and it's largely due to you," his father said, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

"Thanks."

His father studied his face for a moment, his eyebrows crinkling with concern. "Is something wrong, Ron?"

"No," he said, avoiding looking at his father. Somehow, his father always knew when he was lying.

Unfortunately, by avoiding his father's gaze, his locked on the one thing he didn't want to see any more. Hermione and Terry were holding each other, not quite dancing, but moving slowly with their eyes closed. Hermione's head was nestled on Terry's chest, and even though she was pretty far away from him, he could tell that she was upset about something.

"Ron, have you told her yet?" his father asked gently.

"Told her what, dad?" he asked, keeping his eyes trained on the barely moving couple.

"That you love her?"

Ron turned his head slowly toward his father, not even bothering to ask how he could have possibly known.

"No," he said quietly, shaking his head. "She's with Terry, and although I don't like it, I can't ruin that for her."

"Son," said his father, taking his arm and pulling him off the floor to a quiet table off to the side, "if you want to be with her, you have to fight for her."

"Listen, dad, I appreciate your concern, but I really think I know how to handle this. We're best friends. If I tell her now, when she's with someone else, I'll ruin our friendship. I can't do that," Ron said, shaking his head emphatically.

His father grew quiet for a moment, then pulled out a chair at the table for himself. "Have a seat, Ron," he said, gesturing toward the chair next to his.

Ron obliged, curious at the suddenly serious look on his father's face.

"When your mother and I were at school together, we were friends. Not best friends like you and Hermione, but we were partners in a couple of classes, so we got chummy." His eyes got a far away look in them, as if he were literally looking into the past.

"I was crazy about her. She was so outspoken and opinionated, the exact opposite of me. She could do just about anything, and from the moment I met her, I knew that I wouldn't ever meet anyone quite like her," his father continued, smiling slightly now.

"The problem was, she was already dating some bloke a year ahead of us. He was a big time Quidditch star, and it drove me out of my wits to see her with him. But she was happy… or at least that's what I thought. Turns out, he wasn't what she wanted after all."

"How do you know that?" Ron asked, slightly intrigued by his father's story. He had imagined that his parents had always been together.

"She told me," his father said simply. "One day, we were in the middle of Potions, and she started chatting about how Edmund-that was his name-was completely absorbed in the Quidditch season, and she felt like she wasn't a priority anymore. She looked so unhappy, so upset at the thought of not being special enough for him that before I knew what I was doing, I was confessing how much I liked her. I told her that if she were my girlfriend I would never take her for granted, and that I would always make her feel like the amazing person she was."

Ron grinned at his father. "Subtle," he said teasingly.

His father smirked at him. "It worked, didn't it? Thirty years later, and we're dancing at our oldest son's wedding together. I'd say the gamble paid off."

Ron's grin faded a bit as he considered his father's words. "Dad, did mum freak out after you told her how you felt about her?"

"Freak out?" his father asked, looking at him in confusion.

"Yeah, I mean, that day in class, how did she respond? Was it awkward?" he asked, glancing over at Hermione again. She was still moving slowly with Terry, and his pulse pounded in his veins. If he told her, and it pushed her closer to Terry, he didn't think he would be able to handle it. He would have to take a page out of Harry's book and move to another country for a while.

"Well, at first, she didn't know what to say to me, but by the end of class, she was asking if I'd like to study for our exam in the library later that night," his father responded, smiling at the memory. "Of course, she broke up with Edmund at dinner, and by the time we met up in the library, we got very little studying done."

"Okay," Ron interrupted, trying to push images of his parents getting cozy in the same library he'd studied in out of his head. "I get the picture."

His father laughed, and seeing his wife walking toward him, he stood up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go convince your mother she made the right choice."

Ron laughed as his father straightened his robes, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Go get her, dad."

"Son, just remember one thing," his father said, resting his hand on Ron's shoulder again. "Hermione is one in a million. If you don't want to lose her, you have to find the courage to tell her."

Ron nodded, and just as his father turned to walk away, he grabbed his robes. "Dad, what if she doesn't feel the same? What if I ruin what we have now and make everything awkward between us?"

His father smiled down at him. "Ron, I'm your father. I've seen the two of you grow up together. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"But what if she doesn't feel the same way?" he repeated, seeking the assurance he needed if he was going to go through with this.

"What if she does?" his father asked simply, raising an eyebrow. Ron sighed heavily as his mother joined them at the table. She linked her arm through his father's and leaned up against his side.

"What are the two of you talking about so intently?" she asked, wiping away a small spot on his father's robes.

"Nothing, dear," his father replied, smiling at her. "How about a dance with the love of your life?"

His mother smiled up at his father with a look so purely happy, that Ron had to smile along with her.

"Of course," she said, sliding her hand down to intertwine with his.

As his parents walked onto the dance floor once again, his father looked back at him over his shoulder.

"Trust me, son," he said, grinning broadly. "It's totally worth it."

Ron watched his parents as they moved into each other's arms and began dancing to the slow song that was now being played for the party. His eyes moved over the crowd, and he saw Fred and Angelina swaying together. Fred's eyes were looking straight into Angelina's, and Ron had to admit, his usually immature brother looked calm and content.

He saw Bill and Fleur dancing close to them, completely absorbed in each other, not even aware that people were smiling and gesturing at them.

When his eyes moved to the furthest corner of the floor, he started at what he saw. Harry and Ginny were moving together slowly, standing as close to each other as their bodies would allow.

His first impulse was to grimace, but then he watched them a bit longer. They were swaying together, moving as one, and he found himself smiling. It would be so strange to watch his sister and his best mate get together, but if their dance was any indication, he'd have to find a way to deal with it.

"Is this seat taken?"

He turned quickly at the sound of Hermione's voice. She was standing behind the table, the candle-light bouncing off of her silky robes. He gave himself a mental shake. The last time he'd seen her, she was still with Terry across the yard.

"No," he said, amazed that he got anything out at all. The conversation he'd had with his father was still extremely fresh in his mind, and he found that he couldn't look her squarely in the eye.

"So, are you completely freaking out?" Hermione asked, and he wondered how she knew. His eyes came up to hers in surprise. Was he that readable?

"What?" he asked nervously.

She laughed, and pointed out at Ginny and Harry. "I assumed you would be here seething, plotting the quickest way to destroy him for touching your sister," she said.

"Oh," he sighed with relief. So he wasn't that transparent. "No, I think it's great. I kind of knew that something was going on by the way he's been acting lately. Every time Ginny came into a room, he would get all tense and just watch her."

Hermione grinned at him and his chest constricted. She really was entirely too beautiful for her own good. "I know, isn't it wonderful? She's been letting little things slip, about how great he's been the past few months. Reading between the lines, I think she's falling for him again."

They watched Harry and Ginny for a moment, silence falling over them comfortably.

"So," he said finally, curiosity getting the better of him, "where did Terry get off to?"

He was surprised at how quickly her expression changed. She was no longer smiling, and although she didn't look sad exactly, he could tell that something very serious was on her mind.

"He got a message from the hospital and decided to go in," she said tonelessly, keeping her eyes out on the dancing couples. "I figured since there's only about an hour or so left in the party, it wouldn't really make much of a difference."

Ron watched her closely. "I saw you guys talking before, and it seemed pretty serious. Is everything okay?" he asked. He tried to keep his voice even, so she wouldn't hear the anxiousness he felt. There was something in the look on her face that made him wonder if Terry may have left for other reasons besides work.

Her eyes remained on the guests in the yard. "Everything's fine," she replied tonelessly, but a slight flush stained her cheeks. He wondered at it, seeing as how Hermione was so rarely shy about anything.

He felt his hands curling into fists, which usually happened when he was frustrated by her. He recognized the action, and he forced himself to relax. He reasoned with himself that it wouldn't do any good to get angry with her one minute, then tell her he loved her in the next.

"No it isn't," he said, staring at the side of her face. "You don't sound fine, you don't look fine, and if everything really were fine, you would be able to tell me what you were talking about."

Slowly, she turned to face him, and he noticed that despite his best intentions, she was a bit angry with him. Her eyes were narrowed slightly, and she was sitting straight in her chair. Perfect posture had always been a sure fire sign that she was put-out about something.

"I just don't feel like telling you right now, if that's alright," she said shortly, her eyes holding his. Despite the anger in her voice, however, her cheeks still held the flush from before. If anything, in fact, it had deepened.

"It's not alright," he said, shaking his head. "If he said something to bother you, or upset you, I want to know about it."

"He didn't say anything to upset me," she responded, lowering her eyes to the table between them. When she didn't continue past that, he felt his patience wearing thinner.

"Hermione, your boyfriend just left you at a wedding. I know," he continued, seeing that she was about to interrupt him, "you said he had to go into work, but I don't think that's true."

"Just drop it, Ron," she said tensely, still focused on the tablecloth as if it held some deep secret.

"You know something," he said, feeling the frustration boiling up in him now. "You never used to lie to me, but ever since you started seeing Terry, you've been doing it more and more. I don't appreciate it, and if you would –"

"I'm not seeing him anymore," she interrupted quietly. "So you don't have to worry about me 'lying' to you again."

For a moment, the world around them seemed to come to a complete standstill. Ron's breath was caught somewhere in his throat, and he felt as if the small details of his surroundings were brought into a sharper focus. Had he heard her right? Had she just said what he hoped she'd said?

"What?" he asked, trying desperately to see her eyes, but she kept them trained away from him. All he could see of her face was her silhouette, and it was driving him mad.

"We decided to end things," she said, folding her hands together on the table she was still staring at. "That's what we were discussing before."

"Why?" he questioned lightly, trying to keep the elation out of his voice. He could tell she was a bit rattled by her decision, and although it made him happier than he'd ever felt, she was probably not feeling the same about the situation.

Despite the low lighting, he saw the flush on her cheeks deepen drastically. "We just wanted different things," she said simply.

"Like what?"

"Ron, please, can we drop this? I don't feel comfortable talking about this with you," she begged, finally raising her eyes to his. He could see the emotion in them, but her words struck him harshly.

"Fine," he said tightly. "Sorry I make you feel so uncomfortable."

Her shoulders crumbled visibly and silence stretched between them. Ron immediately regretted his words. He hadn't meant to push her, but too much was at stake. His need to know why she and Terry broke things off was driving him past the point of rational thinking.

He was about to apologize, when she spoke up first. "He asked me something, and I didn't have the right answer. As a matter of fact, I didn't have any answer at all," she said quietly, averting her eyes again. It was almost as if she found it too difficult to look at him.

Despite this, Ron's pulse quickened once again. "What did he ask you?"

"He asked me how I felt about marriage," she said, her voice barely audible above the music.

"What?!" Ron thundered, almost coming out of his seat. "He asked you to marry him?"

"No," she corrected, her cheeks now positively crimson. "He asked me if I ever thought about getting married someday." She paused, looking uncomfortable and wary. "I didn't know how to answer him. I mean, everyone thinks about getting married someday, don't they?" she asked, shrugging.

Ron kept quiet. He couldn't speak now anyway if his life depended on it.

"Anyway," she continued, "when I didn't answer him, he told me he had thought about it, and that even though we were still so new to each other, I was what he wanted in a wife."

If she didn't get to the point soon, he thought he'd go mad. This was killing him slowly, hearing her talking about Terry's intentions toward her. Even though they had broken things off, he still hated hearing that Terry was having those kinds of thoughts about her.

She cleared her throat quietly, keeping her eyes trained on an imaginary spot on the table. "As soon as he said that, it was like I could see clearly for the first time. I knew that things couldn't go on any longer between us, because I couldn't see what he saw. I couldn't see us sharing our lives together like that."

"You couldn't?" he questioned, his voice low.

She raised her eyes to his. "No," she responded quietly. They stared at each other for a long moment, in which Ron searched desperately for his courage.

He got out of his seat and moved to the one right next to her. Hermione's eyes widened slightly, but her expression remained unreadable. He took a deep, calming breath and willed his heart to slow to a normal pace.

"Are you sure you made the right decision?" he asked quietly, searching her eyes for any hint of regret.

"I'm sure," she said, equally as quiet. "I liked him very much, but I wasn't in love with him."

Ron felt as if he were going to be sick. His stomach was so twisted up, he was sure that either Fred or George had found a way to slip one of their inventions into his drink. His palms were sweating, and he ran them down the length of his legs.

"I think you made the right choice," he said, scooting his chair closer to hers. He could see her breath coming quicker, and his heart hammered against his ribs.

"Me too," she said softly, her eyes holding his gaze firmly.

He placed his hand on the table near hers. "Hermione, I wanted to –"

Just then, the music cut off and Bill's voice rang out across the yard.

"Fleur and I want to thank everyone for coming. We'd especially like to thank my parents for hosting this excellent party, and her parents for providing the entertainment. I've been instructed to get the families together for some photographs, so if everyone would meet at the refreshment tent, we can get started. And again, on behalf of my wife and I," he said, clearly savoring the sound of the word, "thank you for being a part of our day."

There was scattered applause as the music started up again, and Ron could see his brothers making their way to the designated tent. He watched Ginny pull away from Harry reluctantly, giving him a small smile as she followed Charlie into the tent.

His eyes came around to Hermione again, who was looking at Bill with frustration evident in her gaze.

"I, um…well, I guess I have to do this thing," he said resignedly, the moment now completely spoiled. It was further ruined when Fred began waving wildly at him and shouting his name from the entrance to the tent.

"Yes, I suppose you do," she answered softly, turning her gaze to him and smiling. "Try not to let Fred and George make faces behind anyone's backs."

He rose out of his chair, frustration boiling through his veins. He didn't want to leave things like this. In truth, the only thing he wanted was to find somewhere quiet, tell her how he felt about her, and finally kiss her the way he'd been wanting to kiss her since they were fourteen.

"You're sticking around, right?" he asked, suddenly afraid that once she was out of his sight, she'd run home and never look back.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said quietly.

He smiled at her, wondering just what he could have done to ever deserve having her in his life. He saw Harry making his way over to them, a sort of dazed look on his face.

"I'll see you in a bit," he said, then he gestured at Harry. "Let me know if he talks."

As he walked away Hermione's soft laughter reached his ears, and he sent out a silent prayer that these would be the quickest photographs in the history of time.

* * *

_Almost there…the next part will be chock full of confessions as the two couples take things to the next level. Lots of goodness to come. The wedding will also be over, so we won't have to worry about other characters interrupting any longer. I promise, the things you all have been waiting to happen will happen in the next chapter. How they are going to happen is anyone's guess! These guys tend to do what they want with no consideration to me, or us…_


	18. The Point of No Return

**Anywhere but in Between**

_I only own the plot._

_Words are failing me right now. I'm trying to think of an appropriate way to thank all of you, but I simply can't do it. LegendaryRockstar, your review literally had me clapping my hands and grinning like an idiot at the screen. You're right, the dialog was difficult to write, and I had to go back a million times to touch it up. The movie sounds like a brilliant idea. Let me know if you can find the backing for it and I'll sell the rights in a minute. Your review was truly one of the most encouraging I've received to date, so thank you. MmmMmmGood, welcome and thank you. Your review was wonderful. Localizy, congrats! It sounds like things lined up perfectly…TheGossipQueen, welcome to you as well. I have tried hard to stay true to them and I'm glad it's paid off, and let me say, you gave me the best news I've heard in a while: BOOK 6 comes out on July 16! I had no idea! That is two days before my birthday. Happy Birthday to me!!!_

_There are so many of you I want to thank, and you have all become my inspiration. LJfan, wackyone, illusions industry, angelicone, and so many more. I don't want to make the author's note as long as last time, because we are finally there folks. This is IT. So let's get on with it…_

**Chapter 18 – The Point of No Return**

Even though Hermione was having a good time watching Harry squirm from the questions she kept firing at him, she was growing extremely impatient for Ron's return. She was sure that he was going to tell her what she'd wanted to hear for so long, and the agony of waiting was starting to grate on her last nerve.

She had broken things off with Terry for several reasons. She hadn't been lying to Ron when she'd said that she and Terry wanted different things for their futures. She had just omitted the fact that the thing that she wanted was Ron.

When Terry had sprung the question of wanting to get married on her, the only thing that had filled her mind were pictures of Ron. Not that she wanted a proposal or anything like that. All she really wanted was an end to this played-out game they had been engaged in ever since they were teenagers.

She wasn't stupid. She knew that Ron had been mildly interested in her when they were at school. She, however, hadn't been ready to take the leap. They had been close, best friends, and she had been scared that if they had attempted anything more than that, they would have ruined everything. Besides, they had Harry to consider. If she and Ron had gotten together back then, Harry would have been the third wheel. She had figured that he had enough to concern himself with, without having to worry that his best friends were excluding him.

Besides, they had been kids back then. Who was to say that if they had gotten together that they would even know each other now? With their tempers back then, they would most assuredly have broken up. What then?

"It looks like people are starting to leave," commented Harry, drawing her attention back to him. He was looking at the tent opening as well, with a hopeful look on his face. She grinned inwardly, wondering if he was as anxious as she was.

"Don't worry, Harry," she said lightly. "They'll be done soon, and then you can have Ginny all to yourself again."

"What?" he asked, his face reddening quickly.

"Harry, you forget who you're talking to. I know what it's like to wait for someone, and if you don't ever take another bit of advice from me in your life, take this. Don't keep her waiting. Let her know how you feel, the sooner the better," she stated emphatically.

He straightened, looking ready to refute her accusations about his feelings toward Ginny. In the next instant, however, he relaxed into his chair and sighed.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," he said, running a hand through his unruly hair.

"Oh? How so?"

He sighed again. "She's different. It wouldn't be some casual thing with her. I'm best mates with her brother, and her family is the only family I've ever known. If things were to go badly between us, I'd be losing more than her."

"Why would things go badly?" she asked, her brows furrowed in confusion. "How could you put an end to things before they have a chance to start?"

"I don't know. People get together, and they break up, don't they? I mean, you just got finished telling me that you and Terry called things off tonight, didn't you? You and he were perfectly suited, and it ended," he reasoned.

"It ended because I didn't love him," she explained patiently. "He's not what I want. From what I've seen, you want Ginny, and she wants you. There's no reason you shouldn't give it a go."

Harry looked ready to say something else, but at that moment the wedding party exited the tent. He sat even straighter in his seat, and he ran his hand through his hair again.

"It looks like they're finished up," he said in a strangled voice. Her eyes swung to the tent, immediately locking on Ron's. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. He held up a finger, gesturing to the guests that were leaving and coming up to them to say their goodbyes. She nodded at him, and turned back to Harry.

He was watching her closely, a small smile on his face. "You broke up with Terry because of Ron, didn't you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

It was her turn to blush. "I told you why we broke up already," she insisted.

He smirked at her. "Right."

"Really, Harry," she chided, willing the blush away from her cheeks. It was one thing to have a go at him, but she'd never been very good at it being directed at her.

He laughed, standing up. "I'm going to go ask Mrs. Weasley if she needs any help cleaning up."

"Ah, kissing up to the mother already?" she teased, standing as well. "You don't have to worry, Harry. She adores you like you're one of her own already."

He pulled a face at her. "You can be really evil when you want to be," he said with narrowed eyes.

Hermione laughed, following him across the yard.

Bill and Fleur were saying goodbye to their families, ready to leave and start their honeymoon. Hermione smiled when she saw Mrs. Weasley burst into tears and hold her son as tightly as she could. Mr. Weasley had to pry his wife off of his son, and with a hearty handshake, sent Bill and his new bride on their way.

The last of the guests apparated shortly after and Fred announced that he was taking Angelina home. The rest of the Weasleys dispersed across the yard, starting the arduous task of cleaning up. Hermione saw Harry approach Ginny tentatively, offering his services. She smiled to herself, wondering if Harry would take her advice or not, and if Ginny would have any good news for her tonight before they retired.

"Hey," she heard from behind her.

She turned to face Ron, the smile still on her face. "Hey, yourself."

"So, mum put me in charge of taking down the tents. I figure the quicker I get started, the quicker I'm done," he said, his eyes locked onto hers intently.

"I'll help then," she said lightly, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. The sooner they were finished, the sooner they could resolve what had started before they were interrupted.

"Okay," he said, returning her smile.

About a half-hour later, Mrs. Weasley made the final rounds, proclaiming them done for the night. She and Mr. Weasley bid them all a goodnight and walked back to the house, arm in arm. Charlie and George followed soon after, although Charlie kept shooting strange looks at Harry. Hermione could understand why. Harry hadn't left Ginny's side all throughout the clean up, and was now speaking in low tones to her across the yard.

"What do you think they're talking about?" asked Ron, a small smile on his face.

Hermione followed his line of vision, and smiled along with him. "I don't know, but I'm hoping he takes my advice."

He turned to look at her. "And what advice would that be?" he asked, his gaze unreadable in the growing darkness.

"I told him that he shouldn't wait to tell her how he felt about her," she confessed softly.

Ron nodded slightly, taking a step toward her. "That's good advice," he said quietly. They stood perfectly still, only a few inches apart from each other, their gazes locked intently on each other.

Hermione's heart was racing inside her chest. She felt as if her skin was on fire, and she took a shaky breath to try and calm herself.

"You know, I just realized something," he said.

"What's that?" she asked, amazed she could hear her own voice over the loud thumping of her pulse. He took another step toward her, and she swallowed with difficulty.

"We didn't get a chance to dance tonight," he said, holding out his hand. "This is the first time we've ever been at a party together where we didn't have a dance."

She stared at his hand as if she had never seen it before. He was waiting patiently for her to accept his offer, and she felt such a surge of love for him that she had to force herself not to throw herself into his arms.

"That's not true," she said quietly. "We didn't dance together at the Yule Ball back in fourth year."

He smiled at her then, a beautiful smile of remembrance. "Well, that's because I was a stupid git and didn't ask you to go with me in the first place."

She put her hand in his, feeling the electricity of his touch all the way through her body. "You weren't stupid," she said softly. "You were fourteen."

His eyes held hers as he pulled her closer to him. She went willingly, trying to keep her breathing even. If she didn't calm down, she'd hyperventilate on him right where she stood.

"I have a confession to make," he said, placing his hand on her waist gently. She gave up on trying to breathe at all, and let him guide her slowly into his arms. "All those years you accused me of being jealous of Viktor Krum? You were spot on," he admitted, giving her a small smile.

"Yes, well, when Fleur kissed you after you helped Harry pull Gabrielle out of the water, I wanted to slap her. Of course, I'm glad I didn't, considering," she said, laughing quietly.

He kept his gaze locked with hers. "Well, as long as we're trading confessions," he said, pulling her even closer, "I have a pretty big one that I've been trying to admit to for a long time now."

Her heart was slamming against her ribs uncontrollably now, making her feel dizzy. She decided to take the last remaining step between them, bringing her body up against his and putting her free hand at the back of his neck, her fingers barely brushing against his hair.

"Yes?" she asked quietly when he didn't immediately continue. She saw only the briefest moment of hesitation in his eyes before he ducked his head so his mouth was close to her ear. His cheek was resting lightly against hers, and she felt the shockwaves of his closeness through every fiber in her being.

"I'm in love with you," he whispered.

If she hadn't been standing so close to him, her legs would have given out. Finally hearing the words she'd been waiting half her life to hear sent a rush of happiness through her so strong that she was afraid she'd pass out. She closed her eyes against the million sensations flooding her brain, slowly releasing his hand and bringing it up to cradle the side of his face.

"I'm in love with you, too," she said softly. She felt his arms immediately tighten around her, holding her closer against him than she thought was possible. He moved his head slightly, letting his cheek brush against hers. He sighed against her neck, making her shiver involuntarily.

"Thank God," he said. They remained like that for a long while, content to simply have said what had been on their minds for so many years.

Then, she felt Ron pulling away from her and she opened her eyes. He was looking down into her face with a desire she'd never known existed until now.

"Now that I've said what I've wanted to say for so long, I was wondering if I could do what I've wanted to –"

"Ronald Weasley," she interrupted lightly, "if you don't kiss me now, I'll never forgive you." She saw the side of his mouth lift into a half-smile, and he had never looked more wonderful in her eyes.

"I know better than to make you angry," he said in a low voice, the small smile vanishing instantly as his eyes focused on her lips.

Whatever she had imagined in the past about what kissing Ron would be like, it was nothing compared to the reality. She saw his eyes close right before she felt his lips on hers, and she closed her own at the contact. He kept his lips lightly on hers for a moment, giving them both a chance to get used to things. The small consideration made her love him even more than she did, and she let her fingers travel into his hair.

He made a small sound against her mouth, increasing the pressure of his lips. She let her mouth fall open under his, and a sensation unlike any she had ever known flowed through her. His hands came around from her back to cradle her face in his hands, moving her head along with his as he slowly deepened the kiss. He was taking his time, exploring her lips with his own.

She allowed herself to completely let go of all inhibitions and doubts, kissing him back with all the trust and love she felt for him.

They broke apart slowly and Ron sighed again, leaning his forehead against hers. His hands reached around his neck to find hers and he brought them down to rest at their sides, their fingers intertwining tightly.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he said quietly. She sighed contentedly, feeling that for the first time, everything she wanted was truly in her grasp.

"I love you, Ron," she whispered softly.

"I love you," he answered, his tone equally as soft.

They remained like that with their foreheads touching, simply resting against each other for what seemed like forever. Then Ron's arms went around her, and his lips found hers once again. It was even more incredible than the first time, and as he gently deepened their kiss, Hermione sent up a silent prayer of thanks to anyone who was listening.

* * *

"Ginny, what do you think we should do with the used candles?"

She heard Harry's voice, but she didn't respond. All of her attention was trained on the couple across the yard.

"Ginny?" he asked, coming up behind her.

"Look," she said, pointing over at her brother and Hermione. Harry followed her gesture, squinting in the darkness.

"What are they doing?" he asked, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Ginny laughed, refraining herself from clapping her hands like a little girl.

"They're dancing," she replied happily.

Harry frowned at her. "But there's no music," he pointed out unnecessarily.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him and shifted her gaze off the dancing couple. They deserved a bit of privacy now, especially if her brother was finally getting up the courage to tell Hermione that he loved her.

"Honestly, Harry," she chided lightly, moving around him to dispose of the candles he had previously mentioned.

"What?" he asked.

She sighed, wondering why men never understood what was right before their eyes. "Never mind," she said, laughing again.

Harry held the bag open for her as she deposited the last of the candles into it. She was very conscious of how close he was to her, and ever since their earlier dance, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about how his hands had felt on her. Just thinking about it now made her shiver slightly, and she forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.

"So," Harry said, waving his wand at the bag, sending it flying into the corner with the other rubbish, "is that everything?"

"I think so," she answered, almost sorry that their chores were done. She wanted to have an excuse to be with him longer, but seeing as how nothing else needed to be done, she sighed. "I guess we can head on to bed."

She could have sworn that she saw a flicker of disappointment in Harry's eyes, but it was too dark out to tell. They started out across the yard to the house, and right before they reached the back door, Harry's hand reached out to stop her.

She glanced down at his hand briefly, amazed that even the simplest touch set her pulse racing so crazily. When she looked up, however, he wasn't looking at her. He was looking back at Hermione and Ron, a huge grin on his face.

"I don't believe it," he said, pointing out in the darkness. She followed his gaze, and her eyes widened. Ron and Hermione were kissing, and it hadn't just started that moment either.

"No way," she whispered, amazed at what she saw. Harry let out a short bark of laughter, and Ginny faced him. "What's so funny?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It looks like Hermione's following her own advice," he said, more to himself than anything.

"What?" she asked in confusion. Harry looked down at her, then, blushing slightly, he shook his head.

"Nothing," he said quickly, moving toward the door. "Come on, we should give them some privacy."

When they entered the house, Ginny found it oddly quiet. She realized that everyone must have turned in for the evening, although there was a fire going in the living room. She made her way into the room, sinking wearily onto the sofa. She kicked off her shoes, and wiggled her toes. If she never had to wear heels again, that would be just fine with her.

Harry sat on the other side of the sofa, almost hanging off the side he was so far away from her. She sighed, wondering if the dance from before was simply a fluke. She had thought that he was interested in more, since he had held her so carefully, so close to him the entire time they danced. That wasn't how friends danced with each other. At least, that wasn't how she danced with any friend she had ever had.

She chanced a look at him, and found him staring into the fire with a serious expression on his face.

"What is it?" she asked lightly, drawing her knees up under her.

"Hmm?" he asked, shifting his eyes over to her. She smiled at him, reaching for a blanket off the back of the sofa. "You look so serious all of a sudden. What are you thinking about?"

Harry sighed lightly, running a hand through his hair. "I was just wondering what it's going to be like to have the two of them dating," he said honestly. She could tell that the idea of being left out was bothering him, especially since he'd missed so much of their lives already.

"Things won't change too much, if I know them," she said reassuringly. "They'll argue, and make up, then argue some more, then make up again. You know," she said, grinning, "the usual."

Harry smiled, the serious look vanishing from his face. "If anything, at least we'll have some good stuff to tease them with for the next few days."

They fell into silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Ginny wondered if Harry was thinking about their dance as much as she was. It seemed like it was consuming her thoughts. All she could think about was how she had felt in his arms, and how his cheek had felt against hers.

"It was a great wedding," Harry said, breaking the silence in the room.

"Yes, it was," she replied, pulling the blanket closer around her legs. The dress was lovely, she had to admit, but it didn't offer the greatest amount of warmth on the cold October evening. "By the way," she added, raising an eyebrow at him, "Gabrielle told me to tell you that she enjoyed meeting you."

"Did she now?" mused Harry, shaking his head. "I tell you, those part-veelas are really forces to be reckoned with, aren't they?"

Ginny laughed, suddenly remembering the look on Alienne's face as George had said goodnight to her. She had appeared to have been the one under some sort of spell, and she had to hand it to her brother. He really was quite charming when he wanted to be.

"I suppose they are," she agreed.

Silence reigned again between them, and Ginny turned her attention back to the fire. Waiting for Harry to show her what he was thinking was proving torturous, and she didn't know if she could deal with it. He was so closed off and protective of his feelings, that sometimes talking to him was like talking to a brick wall. Still, she had seen enough to have some kind of hope, but she realized that if anything was going to happen, she'd have to be the one to start it.

"She had another part to her message, too," she said, still staring into the fire.

"Oh? What's that?" he asked, his voice filled with apprehension.

She laughed at his tone, and turned on the sofa to face him. "Are you sure you want it?" she asked, her nerve almost breaking when she saw the look on his face.

"I guess," he answered, his eyebrows furrowing together. "Unless it's that she's going to sacrifice small animals and read from her scrapbook or something."

"No, nothing as intense," she promised, edging closer to him on the sofa. "In fact, it should be quite painless."

She saw his eyes widen slightly as she got closer to him. She tried not to look directly into them, for they had always been her downfall. There was something about the brilliance of them that unnerved her unlike anything else could, and she focused her attention solely on his cheek.

She brushed her lips softly against his skin, lingering only a second longer than was prudent. When she pulled back, she saw the rush of color in his face, and the intense look in his eyes, and instead of returning to the other side of the couch she remained where she was.

He was looking at her so steadily, so intently, that her blood pounded in her veins. She willed him to do anything that would prove to her that she wasn't just imagining things, but he remained silent.

She sighed, covering herself again with the blanket. "So, anyway, that's the other part of the message," she said, trying to keep her tone as light as possible.

He nodded almost imperceptibly, then shifted closer to her on the couch. "It's a shame she's so young, or I could have done this," he said, his voice dropping so low that she had to strain to hear him. He moved his face closer to hers, and she made the mistake of looking him in the eye. Her pulse began racing out of control as his lips brushed her own cheek. His lips, however, remained on her cheek much longer than hers had remained on his, and she closed her eyes briefly.

When he pulled back, she found that he didn't move away from her. In fact, he was sitting so close that she no longer needed the blanket to keep her warm.

"Well, if she were older," she said softly, finding a surge of courage she never thought she had running through her body, "her message might have gone something more like this." She brought her lips up to his, barely grazing them with the lightest of caresses before pulling away. This was either the smartest thing she'd ever done, or the stupidest.

She saw him breathing deeply as she pulled back, and before she could fully recline away from him, he stopped her with his hand on her arm.

"Then I could have done this," he said quietly, moving toward her with painstaking slowness. He let his lips fall onto hers with more pressure than she'd used, and he held them there too long to leave any doubt in her mind.

Her heart hammered inside her chest as he pulled away, and she tried to focus on what was happening. Harry Potter had finally broken the impenetrable shell around him, letting her in at last.

She grew weary of their little game, and brought her hand up to brush aside a shock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. Their gazes locked, and in the next instant, they gravitated toward one another again.

"I don't know if this is such a good idea," he said quietly, his lips barely a breath away from hers.

"Why not?" she asked softly, afraid to move for fear that he'd shut down again.

"Everyone I've ever cared about has been taken from me," he said, his hand coming up to feel the silkiness of her hair. "I don't think I'd recover if anything happened to you."

"Harry, could you do me a favor, please?" she asked, closing her eyes against the sensation of his hand in her hair.

"Anything."

"Stop worrying about what will happen and just _let_ it happen," she requested, bringing her own hands up to cradle his face.

He sighed, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her face. His hand moved around to the back of her head, and she felt herself being guided gently toward his lips.

Their mouths met tentatively at first, a slight meeting of the lips that left her begging for more. She moved closer to him on the couch, until she was flush up against him. She put her hand on his leg, and when she felt his body jerk underneath her touch, she smiled against his lips.

"Are you afraid of me?" she whispered, kissing him lightly on the corner of his mouth.

"I'm terrified of you," he replied, letting his lips trail down to her jaw line. She sucked in a sharp breath at the pleasurable sensations swirling in the pit of her stomach, and she realized that if she didn't really kiss him soon, she'd go absolutely mad.

"Why?" she asked, bringing her hands up to his chest. She felt his heart pounding underneath her palms, and she took comfort in the fact that he was feeling the same way as she was.

"You saved me from myself, and I don't know how to repay you," he said quietly, pulling away just enough to be able to see her face.

She gave him a soft smile. "I can think of one way," she said, inclining her face up to his. He returned the smile for a brief moment, before his eyes darkened and he began to lower his head.

This time, when their mouths met, there was nothing tentative about it. She opened her lips under his, reacting instinctively to his intensity. His kiss was deep and slow, and she responded in kind. His arms wound around her tightly, bringing her as close up against him as he could manage. Her brain grew fuzzy, spinning out of any control she may have. She was only vaguely aware that they were in fact snogging in the middle of her parents' house, in full view of anyone who would happen to wake up and come down the stairs.

She didn't care, though. She had waited too long to deny herself the opportunity to kiss him the way she'd always dreamed of kissing him.

He pulled away some time later, his lips swollen and breathing heavily. "Ginny, we have to stop," he said, sliding away slightly to give himself some distance from her.

"I know," she said resignedly. Their eyes locked and held, and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Besides, we'll have plenty of time to do this properly," he said in a low voice. "I just don't think that your parents would appreciate it very much if they caught us like this."

She smiled at his words. "So this wasn't just a one time thing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Harry shook his head, then his eyes widened in fear. "Why, did you want it to be?" he asked quickly.

She laughed then, smoothing away the worried look on his forehead. "I don't kiss everyone like that," she said softly.

His features relaxed and he smiled at her. "You better not," he said, kissing her lips gently one last time. "Well, why don't you go up first. I'm going to wait here for Hermione and Ron and see if they fess up to anything when they come back inside."

Ginny laughed again, swatting him on the arm. "So cruel," she chided, getting up off the couch. She tossed the blanket onto him, covering him for a second before he pulled it off.

She took in the disheveled appearance of the man she was pretty sure she was falling in love with all over again, and her heart almost burst with happiness. His eyes were holding hers steadily, and she bent down to receive another kiss from him.

Before they could get carried away again, she straightened and turned away quickly. "Okay, I'm going now," she said, more to psyche herself up than anything.

"Ginny," he called out, as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

She turned to face him. "Yes?"

He cleared his throat and her heart constricted at the boyish look on his face. "Nothing. Goodnight," he said, smiling almost apologetically. Whatever it was he was about to say would have to wait for another time.

And that was fine with her. Small steps seemed to be his style, and she didn't have a problem with that. She considered what had happened tonight a full-out miracle as it was.

"Goodnight, Harry," she said softly before turning and heading up the stairs for what she assumed would be a very restless night of sleep.

* * *

_Well, there you have it…finally. They started to act a different way than I wanted, but I just went with it. I hope it was okay. Anyway, they are not done yet. Much more to come, especially when they realize that someone, somewhere, knows now that Harry is back, and isn't too happy about it. Please, please, please, keep reading!_


	19. After the Beginning

**Anywhere but in Between**

_I only own the plot. _

**_I am SO sorry that this is so long in coming. (Really, and truly)_**

_I sincerely hope that there are still some of you that are looking for this. The only thing I can tell you is that I have been severely out of commission for a while. Anyway, enough of my excuses. I just want to apologize to you all, and thank you in advance if you're still willing to come back and read what I've got. I also have another story going on in my head, so keep an eye out! _

**Chapter 19 – After the Beginning**

In all of Ginny's storybooks she'd read when she was a little girl, the story always ended with the prince kissing the princess, declaring his undying love, and the two of them living happily ever after.

No longer a little girl, she knew now that those endings were only the beginnings, and what came after was the stuff that real life was made of.

That was how, a few weeks after Bill and Fleur's wedding, she came to be sitting across a table from Harry Potter, sharing dinner and many, many kisses in between.

She had never been so happy in all her life. She was positive now that she was in love with him, and although neither of them had said the words, she could feel how much he cared about her in the hundreds of little things he did to make her happy in the time they'd been together.

Even now, sitting across the table from him in his flat, she found it hard to believe that he'd cooked her dinner and presented her with a dozen roses when she'd arrived from school an hour ago. Never, in a million years, would she have taken Harry for a romantic.

Not that she was complaining.

All together too late, she realized he had been saying something; something that required some sort of response on her part. Too bad she had been lost in the haze that had seemed to cover the majority of her thoughts for the past two weeks.

"Sorry?" she said, giving him a sheepish grin. She couldn't very well tell him that she was considering his romanticism and her own feelings of overwhelming love. She did have some pride, after all.

He tutted at her, shaking his head in mock disappointment. His beautiful eyes glinted teasingly at her as he sat back from the table deep into his chair.

"Here I was, slaving over a hot stove all day for you, and you can't even have the decency to pretend to be interested in what I'm saying," he chided, shaking his head again.

She raised an eyebrow at him, leaning well over the table to get closer to him. "You're right, and I'm very, very sorry. I don't know why you put up with me."

He narrowed his eyes at her playfully, then in the next instant, he leaned closer to her, pushing aside the vase that held her flowers so he could have a clear path to her.

"I do," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her suggestively, and she couldn't help but laugh. She hadn't realized how long she'd gone without laughing until he'd come back into her life, and now she couldn't seem to stop smiling and feeling good about everything. If that wasn't love, then she didn't know what was.

"I haven't thanked you properly for the dinner, or the flowers, have I?" she asked in a light voice, preferring to forget about the half-hour she'd kissed him senseless after he'd presented her with the flowers.

"Why, Ms. Weasley, I don't believe you have," he said, some of the playfulness going out of his voice as his eyes flickered. She was getting used to his little quirks and mannerisms, and when his eyes took on that look, she knew she would soon be floating in that smoky haze he seemed to have her trapped in.

Her body tingled in anticipation as he leaned across the table to touch his lips to hers. She shuddered inwardly, still thrilling at the smallest contact with him. The table, however, held too big an obstacle between them for her liking, so she pulled back and rose out of her seat, coming around the table to where he sat.

He looked up at her, holding her gaze steadily with his, as she lowered herself onto his lap so their faces were inches from each other.

"All kidding aside, I loved the flowers, and I loved the dinner. In fact," she paused, almost blurting out that she loved him as well, but knowing instinctively that it wasn't the right time, "I've loved everything about the past two weeks. Thank you for that, Harry."

His arms went around her and held her tightly against him. "You're welcome for the dinner, and the flowers, but as for the rest of it," he said, kissing her lightly on the tip of her nose, "that was all you."

They regarded each other for a quiet moment, before their lips came together in a gentle, sweet kiss.

After a while, they broke apart, and Ginny leaned her forehead against his. "Now, what exactly were you saying before that I didn't quite hear?"

Harry laughed quietly, his hands moving across her back. "I'll be damned if I know," he admitted, nuzzling her jawline with his nose.

It was only later, as they were cleaning up the dishes from the table that Harry remembered what he'd been saying. Ron had written to him, letting him know that he'd finished his courses ahead of schedule and would be taking up post as a junior profiler by the end of the month.

Ginny beamed with pride at the news, wondering just how his brother could handle it all. She knew that his and Hermione's relationship was going better than anyone could have imagined, and he was spending every waking moment he wasn't at work or school with her. How he could juggle all of that, and manage to finish early, was beyond her.

"You're done in about a month, too, aren't you?" Harry asked, emptying his arms of the dishes he'd carried to the sink.

"About that, yes," she said, mentally adding up the time left in her program. After that, she'd have a job waiting for her back at home in the Ministry, and it was something she'd thought about, but hadn't brought up with Harry because she didn't quite know what to say.

Would he move back home? Would he stay here? Would they carry on a relationship with each other between countries? How does one bring up something like that after only two weeks?

Her head began to pound with all the unanswered questions, but luckily, she didn't have to say more, because Harry looked as if he were carefully considering something.

"What?" she asked, bringing the last of the dishes to the sink and waving her wand at the lot to start cleaning them.

"Well, you'll be taking a position with the Ministry, right?" he asked. "Moving back home?"

"I suppose I will be," she said, wondering gloriously if he'd bring it all up and save her the emotional decision.

Harry nodded as if digesting it all, and he leaned back against the kitchen counter almost casually. "Ron mentioned something about getting a flat together, and I was just thinking that it might be time to move home permanently." He paused, pinning her with his gaze. "What do you think?"

She couldn't keep the smile off her face, not for all the galleons in the world. "I think it's a brilliant idea," she said softly, moving slowly toward him.

"Good," he said, pushing away from the counter and closing the distance between them. His eyes held that now familiar spark in them again, and she began to tingle all over again. "I think it's pretty brilliant myself."

This time, there was nothing sweet about their kiss.

* * *

Ron whistled to himself as he made his way to the restaurant to meet Hermione. She had insisted on taking him to dinner when he'd owled her with his news early this morning about finishing the program early. Just thinking about the words of encouragement and pride she'd pored into her return letter made his feet quicken their pace, almost bouncing him along to where she was waiting for him.

He knew he looked like a lovesick sop, but he didn't care. He had waited years to be with Hermione, and now that he could be, he didn't care if everyone around him thought he was a raving lunatic. He had everything he had ever wanted in his life, and then some, and it felt good to feel this…well, good.

He saw her immediately as he pushed open the door to Regalle, one of her favorite spots in downtown London, a few blocks from her flat. She was sitting with her back to the door, poring over the menu that he knew she had memorized by heart by now.

Almost as if she sensed he had arrived, she turned in her chair, and upon seeing him, her face lit up beautifully. His heart swelled to know that he was the cause of that look, and, for about the millionth time, wondered how he had been so lucky to have her actually love him in return.

She got out of her chair, her eyes shining with pride. He reached her quickly, and she moved into his arms immediately.

"I love you," she whispered, pulling back to kiss him squarely on the lips in front of the other patrons. "You have no idea how proud I am of you."

If he thought he'd felt good before, it was nothing to how he felt right now, holding her in his arms and hearing her say what he'd always wanted to hear from her. He couldn't even count how many times they'd told each other they loved each other in the past few weeks, but every time he heard her say it, he could swear that it was the first time.

"Why on earth did you pick a restaurant?" he asked her, holding her as close to him as he could in public without being obscene. "Do you realize you have a perfectly good kitchen in your flat? Your very private flat?" he said, his voice dipping low so no one could overhear him.

Hermione blushed, pulling away from him gently. "Exactly. At least this way, we'll finally get to share a meal, and get all the way through it. This is a celebration, after all."

Ron pulled out her chair, then took the seat across from her. "You're right. Actually eating dinner while it's still hot would be a novelty."

"Besides," she said coyly, lacing her fingers through his on the table, "the restaurant doesn't stay open all night. Eventually we'll have to go home."

Ron's fingers tightened around hers, his body reacting to her voice almost instantaneously. "Have I told you yet today how much I absolutely love you?" he said, lifting her hand up to his lips and trailing little kisses along her wrist.

"Yes, but you can say it again," she said softly, her eyes sparkling into his.

"I love you."

She smiled so serenely that it chased away his breath for a short moment. Just then, the waiter came to take their drink orders, and Hermione ordered the most expensive bottle of champagne on the menu.

"What are you doing?" he chided, as the waiter bowed away. "You don't have to do that. It's just a job," he began, but she waved off his comment.

"It's not just a job. You went after this with more intensity than I've ever seen anyone go after something, and you worked day and night to make this happen. This is a new beginning for you, and I want to celebrate properly," she said emphatically, effectively closing the subject.

"In more ways than one," he said, watching as the waiter returned and began pouring them each a long stemmed glass. When he was finished and had retreated to another table, Ron picked up his glass, Hermione following suit.

"To new beginnings," he said quietly.

"To new beginnings," she responded, equally as quiet.

After dinner was over, Ron told her about writing to Harry, and his idea of sharing a flat with him.

"I hope he takes me up on it. I'm ready to move out of the Burrow, and I think with Ginny coming back before the holidays, he would consider coming home for good," he said.

Hermione smiled again, and Ron had a feeling that Ginny was telling Hermione more about her and Harry's relationship than he would ever get out of Harry. Which, he reminded himself, was a good thing. It was one thing to be happy for his sister and his best mate, it was another one entirely to hear all the sordid details.

He gave an involuntary shudder, and Hermione laughed. "I think Ginny can persuade him if he has any reservations," she said, making him shudder again. This only made her laugh even harder.

"As long as she's not coming over all the time and snogging him right in front of me on the living room sofa, things'll be just fine," he said, trying to keep the mental picture from forming in his mind.

Hermione reached across for his hand, and clasped it between her own. "Well, if that happens, I guess you'll just have to spend even more time at my place, with me, on my living room sofa."

Now that was one mental picture he was more than okay with.

He signaled to the waiter. "Check, please."

As they made their way back to Hermione's flat, arms securely around each other, Ron couldn't imagine life getting any better than it was right now.

* * *

_**Dun Dun Dun…I hope you can all hear the ominous music that I have playing in my own head…Of course they're not going to just go off happy and that be that. I have one or two little wrenches that I have to throw out there yet before they can all ride off into the sunset. **_

_**I'm thinking about five more chapters, maybe less if I can write more often and longer. I just wanted to get this out there because it's been TOO long, and I needed to start somewhere.**_

**_It is SO SO SO hard to write the day after the happily ever after moment. I don't know if I was successful, but I had to start up again. Hope you enjoyed. MORE TO COME!_**


	20. Of Things To Come

**Anywhere but in Between**

_I only own the plot._

_Thanks everyone for sticking with me and coming back with me after this LONG hiatus. I am going to do my best to have this wrapped up within the next week or so, seeing as how we will all be VERY BUSY after the 16th, reading HP #6!_

_So, let's get on with things…_

**Chapter 20 – Of Things To Come**

Living with Ron turned out better than Harry ever could have anticipated. He had his best mate around whenever he wanted him, and he had to admit, Ron had matured greatly since their days as roommates at Hogwarts. There were no longer large messes that would go unheeded for days, things were always in their right order, and, Harry was shocked and pleased to find out, Ron was actually a very good cook.

Not that he was around for many dinners. Ron seemed to try and spend as much time as he could over at Hermione's flat. Harry actually found this to be a positive thing, since Ginny was currently living at the Burrow until she could find suitable, affordable accommodations. Ron tried to ignore the fact that when he left, his baby sister would be coming over, and to his credit, he didn't say anything to Harry about it.

It had been a little over a month since his and Ginny's return, and everyone was gearing up for their first Christmas together in over two years. Mrs. Weasley was almost beside herself, and was planning the largest dinner party that could possibly fit inside their home.

Which is why, on this particularly cold and snow-covered day, Harry found himself wandering around Diagon Alley, hand in hand with Ginny, on the lookout for the list of decorations Mrs. Weasley had owled to them this morning.

"Do you want to get in out of this for a while and get something to drink at The Leaky Cauldron?" he asked, feeling Ginny's small hand tremble slightly in his.

She nodded, the snow falling off the top of her head. They made their way quickly to the establishment, and Harry was pleased to see it hadn't changed much since he'd seen it last.

There were still very odd characters mulling about, wizards and warlocks, some shifty looking travelers, and old, wrinkled hags who were currently discussing the several ways to extract frog livers without actually dissecting the frog.

Ginny steered him toward a semi-private table, and he smiled at her gesture. She knew he was still wary of people coming up to him now that he had moved home. The less conspicuous he was, the more comfortable he felt.

When Tom came by to take their drink orders, his eyes flashed for a second on Harry's face, then away, then back again with disbelief in the gray depths. Harry silently prayed that he wouldn't announce his presence to the whole bar, and his prayer was answered.

Tom simply grinned at him, extending his hand, which Harry shook gladly. "Good to see you back, Harry, we've been wondering where you got off to," Tom said good-naturedly.

"Thanks, Tom," Harry replied, although not willing to get into where he had been, and why. "It's good to see you."

"Ah, pleasure's all mine, lad. Anything the two of you want, it's on the house," Tom said, wiping away an invisible spot on their table.

"No, that's not necessary-" Harry began, but was cut off with a wave of Tom's hand.

"Nonsense, Harry, I do believe it's most necessary, and-" he added, his voice full of authority, "I will not take no for an answer."

Harry shrugged at Ginny, who was trying her best not to smile. "Okay then. We'll start out with some butterbeers and some chips, thanks."

Ginny suppressed a giggle as Tom went into the kitchen to fill their order. "Why do I have the feeling that a ten-course meal is on its way out to us?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "And to think, all we had to do was defeat the Dark Lord himself to get it," he said lightly. Ginny's eyes shone as she let out the giggle she had been holding back.

Since he'd been with Ginny, he'd been able to open up about all of the horrific things from his past, and had even been able to put them into some kind of perspective. He could think about those things without so much pain any longer, and he owed it all to her. Talking about Voldemort, and the destruction he caused, was helping Harry so much more than he'd ever thought it would. Ginny understood, simply because she had lived it, too. Knowing that he wasn't alone in all of it made Harry feel safer than he'd felt since living at Hogwarts.

He watched her silently for a long moment as she took off her cloak, scarf, and mittens. His heart began hammering wildly against his rib cage when her long hair fell across her face and she brushed it aside with an absent gesture. How she didn't realize just how beautiful she was, was beyond him. Every time he looked at her, he could swear that she grew even lovelier.

Ron told him the same about Hermione, then said he figured it was because he was in love with her, and that's what happened when you were in love. The person becomes almost surreal in your eyes, and you can't imagine your life without them in it.

Harry drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his erratic breathing. Was he in love with Ginny?

She twisted back to face him in her seat, and her eyes met his. She smiled when she saw his gaze already on her, and automatically he smiled back. He didn't know what to call what he felt for Ginny, but whatever it was, he was absolutely positive he couldn't live without it.

They chatted quietly as they ate their complimentary food, which kept coming out of the kitchen faster than they could say no to it. Tom wasn't hearing any protests, anyway. Plate after plate of delicious food was set before them until they finally told him they would burst if they ate any more.

Harry was finishing his fourth butterbeer, feeling thoroughly warm inside and out, when the door to The Leaky Cauldron opened and a harsh blast of cold air came whizzing toward them.

Ginny, who was facing the entrance, raised her eyes from her drink to the door, and Harry watched them widen in surprise, then narrow as her face clouded with disdain.

He twisted in his chair. Draco Malfoy was standing in the doorway, shaking the snow off his expensive, dark cloak.

Harry's insides wrenched painfully, and within seconds he was transported back to the fateful night he'd defeated Voldemort but watched Dumbledore die at the hands of Draco's father.

He hadn't been quick enough to save Dumbledore, but the second Voldemort had been blasted into nonexistence, Ginny was released from the curse that was binding her. She had mustered enough strength to cast a binding spell at Lucius Malfoy before he could hex Harry. In more ways than one, Harry owed her his life.

Lucius, however, was not so lucky. The dementors of Azkaban kept him prisoner only long enough to allow the Ministry of Magic to extract the information they needed from him, before delivering their most deadly weapon – the Dementor's Kiss. Lucius Malfoy had been allowed to keep his miserable life, but his soul and his memories were gone forever.

Ginny reached over and grasped Harry's hand, and he turned his attention back to her. "I think we should get out of here," she said levelly, not taking her eyes off Malfoy. He hadn't noticed them yet, but he was approaching a table that would put them in his direct line of sight. "My mum wrote me a little over a year ago, saying that Lucius Malfoy died in his cell in Azkaban."

Harry could see where she was going with this. Malfoy would blame Ginny for his father's death, and if he saw them, he would make a scene in front of all these people. He had to get her out of there without Malfoy seeing them, and get her back to the Burrow where she would be safe.

"Okay, let's go," he said quietly, pushing away from the table and throwing his cloak around him to conceal his appearance from Malfoy's sight. He saw Ginny do the same, and they moved very quickly to the door.

They were about twenty feet down the snow-covered alley when Harry felt a hand clasp his shoulder in a death grip. His whole body tensed, and instinctively, as he turned to face the one person he'd wished he'd never see again in his entire life, he pulled Ginny behind him.

"Potter," Malfoy sneered, his steely-blue eyes burning into his. "I was wondering when our paths would cross, now that you've decided to stop being a coward and return home."

"I would watch who you call coward Malfoy," Ginny said from behind him, her voice as cold as the weather outside. "It's easy to throw names around when you hide behind your father's powerful friends. If there was any real justice, you'd be in Azkaban right now for your role in supporting Voldemort all those years ago."

Malfoy's eyes, if possible, burned with even more hatred as he looked over Harry's shoulder at Ginny. "Don't you speak of my father!" he hissed, causing Harry to step even more fully in front of Ginny. "You're the reason he's dead, and trust me, you will pay for it one day!"

Harry had had enough. He released Ginny's hand and stepped up to Malfoy so they were standing nose to nose. "If you even look at her sideways, you'll wish you were never born," he snarled. "I think it best that you clear off, and forget you even know who we are."

Malfoy didn't budge. His eyes were still trained on Ginny, and his mouth curved into an evil sneer. "So it's you and Potter now, huh? That's tragic, Weasley. I mean, your family is just getting over the loss of that pompous windbag Percy, aren't they? It would absolutely devastate them if something were to happen to their beloved little girl. And we all know what happens to people Potter here cares about, don't we?"

Harry's blood boiled as he reached out his hands and grasped the front of Malfoy's robes, but he had hardly opened his mouth to begin yelling before Ginny had pushed them apart and stood in front of Malfoy just as Harry had done moments ago.

"If you ever speak of anyone in my family again, you won't need Azkaban prison, because I will kill you where you stand," Ginny said so quietly that Harry barely heard her. "As for Harry, he's done losing anyone else. If you hadn't noticed, your kind lost. We've managed to win, despite all of your despicable friends' efforts. Now, why don't you move along and find someone who actually thinks you're worth a damn."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed threateningly, but the ugly smirk was still on his face. "What amuses me most, besides your utter lack of knowledge, is your incredible assurance," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Are you so sure that you've won? Do you really think that Lord Voldemort is completely gone from the minds of those who followed him? It's just as I've always thought, though. Your kind's arrogance and short-sightedness will be your downfall." His lips peeled even further back, deepening his sneer. "If I have anything to say about it, you'll go first."

Harry pulled Ginny aside, and plunged his hand into his robes. His wand was out and fixed on Malfoy's chest before he knew it. "I'm warning you - I have no problem performing a killing curse. I've done it before, and I will gladly do it again."

Malfoy sized him up, gauging the loathing hatred seeping from Harry's eyes. He must have decided that Harry might actually do it despite being on a public street, because he smirked again, straightened his robes, and backed away slowly.

"A pleasure, as always," he said coldly, before whipping his cloak around him and walking in the opposite direction.

Harry's hand was shaking like mad – not from nerves, but from anger. He should have just done it and saved them all the agony of ever having to hear that deplorable voice ever again.

"Come on Harry," said Ginny in a shaky voice from behind him. "We still have to finish up, and it's getting pretty dark out now."

As they walked through the stores collecting the remaining decorations off the list, Malfoy's words repeated through his head, as unwelcome as he himself had been.

_We all know what happens to people Potter here cares about, don't we?_

It was as if Malfoy knew exactly what to say to damage him the most. He had seen right into his heart and knew the thing he feared above all else. Losing someone else he cared about would probably send him into such darkness that he'd never be able to get himself out.

Especially if it was Ginny.

He watched her as she paid for the fairy lights she'd retrieved from the salesgirl, the lights playing off the bright hues of her beautiful hair. His chest felt as if it were being squeezed in a vice, and he realized, in one blinding moment, that if he lost Ginny, he was as good as dead. There wasn't a country far enough away to which he could run that would ease that kind of pain.

_We all know what happens to people Potter here cares about, don't we?_

* * *

They apparated back to Harry and Ron's flat a little before six o'clock, only to find the place empty. Harry saw a note from Ron lying on the coffee table.

_Went to Hermione's for the night. See you tomorrow after work._

Ron

He tossed the note back onto the table and turned to look at Ginny. She was laying the parcels near the door and hanging her cloak up. Malfoy's words repeated over and over in his head, and he sank onto the couch.

"Harry, what is it?" she asked, seeing the expression on his face. Her eyes slid to the note he had dropped and her face went white. "Has something happened?"

He mentally cursed himself. How could he frighten her so soon after she heard Malfoy threaten her and those she loved?

"No, nothing's wrong," he said hurriedly, picking up the note and handing it to her. "Ron's out for the night, nothing more."

"Oh," she said, the color returning to her face as she sank onto the couch beside him. "For a minute there, I thought…" she trailed off, studying him more closely. "You're face, though, what were you thinking about?"

"Nothing," he said, not wanting her to know that what Malfoy had said was eating at him little by little.

He should have known better, though. Ginny was incredibly bright, and knew him well. She frowned at him, turning to face him fully on the couch.

"Okay, I need to know something, and I want you to be honest," she said matter-of-factly, holding him with her even gaze.

"What?" he asked, squirming a bit under the intensity of her eyes.

"Are you planning on ending this," she said, gesturing between the two of them with a hand, "because of what Malfoy said?"

"What?" he asked again, amazed at her ability to get inside his head.

"Harry, bad things don't happen to everyone just because you care about them," she said quietly. "Bad things happen. Period."

"I know," he said shortly, taking his gaze off of hers and staring at a spot somewhere on the floor. "Don't you think I know that?"

She was quiet for a moment, then said, "No, I don't think you do."

She slid closer to him on the couch and put a hand on top of his knee. "Malfoy said those things because he knew it was the easiest way to get to you. And to me. If we let what he said tear us to pieces, we let him win. I, for one, don't want that to be the case."

Harry sighed, as he let his fingers entwine with hers. "Ginny, I can't lose you."

"The only way you'll lose me is if you let me go," she said softly. "Otherwise, I'm not going anywhere."

"He threatened you right to your face, Ginny. He's up to something, and I – "

She cut him off by placing the tips of her fingers against his lips. "Ron told me that Malfoy has been under severe surveillance by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement since the war ended. He can't move without them knowing about it. Besides," she said, turning his face so he was looking at her again, "I haven't been this happy in a very, very long time, and I'm not going to let a ferret like him take that away from me any time soon."

Harry must not have looked convinced, because she smiled at him and brushed the hair off of his forehead. "I waited a long time for you, Harry Potter. You won't get rid of me that easily."

He reached for her free hand. "Promise me you'll tell me if you see him again, or if he tries to talk to you or threatens you –"

"I promise," she cut him off, closing her eyes and letting her forehead rest against his. "As long as you promise you won't end things because you feel that it's what will keep me safe. Loving you is what keeps me safe."

Harry's hand dropped off of hers and he put a little distance between their faces so he could see her eyes. Did she just say what he thought she said?

"What?" he asked, his throat dry and constricted. He saw her eyes open slowly, and the love he saw in the dark depths winded him completely.

"I love you Harry," she said quietly. "So you see, I can't lose you either."

He couldn't breathe. She loved him. Suddenly, Malfoy's words were erased from his memory as hers took up residence repeating themselves over and over in his mind.

His hands came up of their own accord to cradle her face as he looked into her eyes. She stared back at him, trusting him completely with her heart. It was a feeling unlike any Harry had ever known in his entire life.

"You are the most amazing person I've ever known," he said quietly, before lowering his mouth to hers. He realized that she was probably waiting to hear the words in return, but somehow, he couldn't say it. He felt it, but the words wouldn't come. So instead, he tried to show her how he felt.

He felt her smile against his lips, as her hands settled on his waist. They kissed for a while before she pulled away and gestured at the note.

"So Ron's not going to be home tonight, huh?" she asked, a glint sparkling in her eyes.

Harry's blood pounded in his veins at the mischievous look on her face. "Nope. Not going to be home until tomorrow."

"Well," she said, primly, all the while maneuvering so she was straddling his lap, "I can't stay until tomorrow, but I'm sure we can think of something to keep us occupied before I have to head back home tonight."

Harry couldn't think of a witty reply. As their lips met more urgently this time, he focused on how lucky he was to have her in his life, wanting to be with him.

Loving him.

Yet somewhere, deep in his mind, he knew that things weren't going to be as simple as that. Something was coming, and he just had to be ready for it. This time, he had to be ready.

* * *

A week before Christmas, Ron started hounding Hermione about his present. He asked her when he thought she wasn't paying attention, trying to surprise her into a response. He'd tried that tactic before, when he was trying to get it out of her who she was going to the Yule Ball with back in their fourth year. It hadn't worked then, and it wasn't going to work now.

"C'mon, Hermione, just a little clue," he persisted, pausing in his pursuit only long enough to trail kisses down her neck. They were spending a lazy Sunday at her flat, although they were due at the Burrow in an hour for a late lunch.

She wriggled in his arms, shaking her head at him and laughing. "No clues!" she demanded, trying to roll away from him on the bed.

"You're not the easiest person to shop for, you know," he said sullenly, his brow wrinkled in thought. "If I knew just a little, it would help me get you something really nice – "

"We agreed, no expensive gifts this year," she reminded him, pushing the hair out of his eyes. "We have so many people to buy for…just get me a nice book or something."

"A book?" he eyed her warily. "Haven't you enough of those already?"

"Hey, you should be happy I'm not scolding you for not knowing me better," she said, donning a mock-serious look. "I mean, you should know what to get the woman you love, am I right?"

"I thought I was all you needed," he said, making his voice go husky for her benefit. She giggled as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. "Come on, admit it. I'm all you want for Christmas."

She giggled even harder at the look on his face, but decided to play along. "Well, if that's all you're giving me, I better take my gift back."

He growled at her, narrowing his eyes playfully. "Tell me what it is," he said, obviously putting out one last ditch effort to crack her.

"Nope," she said gleefully, kissing him on the cheek and sitting up on the bed. "You'll have to wait for Christmas just like everyone else."

Before she could get off the bed, however, his hands snaked around her waist and he pulled her back down to rest halfway on top of him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"We have to be at your parents' house in an hour," she reasoned, moving her head to give him a quick kiss. She tried to push herself up again, but he held her fast to him.

"Well, then, that gives us a whole hour, doesn't it?" he said, his eyes locked onto hers.

She lowered her head to his, and their lips met in a long, deep kiss. Hermione's head began to spin as it always did when he kissed her, and she felt his arms holding her against his chest as if he would never let go.

She broke away from him and smiled down into his eyes. "I'm still not telling you what I got you."

He swore and let his arms fall to the bed on either side of him. "You're impossible!"

A half-hour later, they were still lying curled up together in bed. Ron was lazily drawing circles on her back, and she was playing with the buttons on his blue shirt.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked, suddenly remembering something from their childhood.

"Sure," he said.

"When we were in fifth year, you gave me perfume for Christmas. Why perfume? Every other year you'd given me such practical gifts," she said, remembering all of the candies and books he'd given her previously.

His face took on a faraway look, as if he were bringing himself back to the very moment he made the decision. "I guess it was because I wanted to get you something special that year."

"Why?"

He grimaced, as if afraid to tell her the real reason. "Well, the year before and all, you were so cozy with Krum, and you'd been writing to him all summer…I guess I wanted to get you something that made you realize I knew you were a girl."

Hermione laughed quietly, remembering with vivid clarity their heated words when he'd asked her to go to the dance with either him or Harry.

"That's sweet," she said, cuddling up against his side.

"Can I ask you something now?" he said, turning a bit so he could see her face.

"Of course," she said, pulling back enough so she could see him properly. Whatever he was about to ask sounded serious, judging from the tone of his voice.

"I guess I just wanted to know if you ever found yourself fancying me while we were at school," he said quickly, scrunching up his brow. "I mean, it's obvious I was a completely jealous git when it came to you and Krum, and I wanted to know if you ever had any of those kinds of thoughts about me at all when we were younger."

Hermione thought on that one long and hard. There were so many small moments that she could say; moments that she found herself thinking about Ron as more than a friend, moments she found herself wondering…hoping…

She must have been silent too long, because Ron cleared his throat and his eyes clouded a bit. "No, it's okay. I mean, I didn't think that you fancied me in school, and it doesn't matter now, does it? You love me now, and that's what –"

"Ron, shut up for a minute," Hermione scolded gently, pressing a finger to his lips. "and I'll give you a hundred times I had those thoughts."

The look in his eyes was replaced with one of deep relief. "Really?"

"Really," she said, kissing his jaw quickly. "But the one that I remember most, the one time I thought, "Oh no, I'm falling for my best friend," was when Percy had written that letter to you about hanging around with Harry our fifth year. Remember that?"

At the mention of Percy, Ron's eyes clouded over again briefly, but he nodded and the grief was gone in the next instant. "Yeah, I think that was the angriest I'd ever been with him," he said, his voice sounding small to her ears.

"I know. I watched as you tore up that letter into a thousand pieces, and how happy it made Harry that you weren't going to abandon him." Her voice shook slightly, and she coughed to give herself time to get the emotion out of her voice.

"So you started to fancy me because I didn't take Percy's advice?" he asked in confusion.

"Not quite," she said, resting her hand on his chest. She could feel his heart beating steadily underneath her palm. "I started fancying you because it finally hit me how loyal you were to the people you cared about. When I understood that, all the times you'd came to my defense started playing out across my mind. I realized that you wouldn't ever let me down because you cared about me too much to ever abandon me, either."

He regarded her silently for a long moment, then a small smile played across his lips. "That was back in fifth year. Why didn't you say anything before then? Look at all the time we spent walking that castle together sixth and seventh year, alone, on prefect duty."

She slowly shook her head at him. "You didn't say anything either, so you're just as much to blame."

"Hey, my excuse was better. I thought you were in love with that great Bulgarian oaf, and how was I to compete?" he reasoned, raising an eyebrow at her.

She smiled down into his eyes, then lowered her head, kissing him deeply for a minute before pulling back. "You never had to compete."

He smiled back at her, and she could see the depth of his love for her in his eyes. "I know I'm going to regret asking this, and really, I'm not going to get mad, but I need to know…" he trailed off, as she positioned herself on her side again, facing him.

"Was Krum your first kiss?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.

"Honest answer?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck slowly.

"Honest answer."

"Yes, he was."

"Oh," he said, and true to his word, he didn't sound mad, or defeated. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes though, as he elaborated. "I just think it would have been cool if we were each other's first kiss."

She pulled him closer to her, and his arms went around her in such a familiar gesture that Hermione's heart constricted almost painfully in her chest.

"Well, we can be each other's last kiss, which is much more important, isn't it?" she asked quietly, searching his face intently. She didn't want to freak him out, or scare him off, but she was more positive about being with him forever than she had ever been about anything in her life. There would be no one else for her. Ever.

His eyes flashed into hers, and he moved so his body was half covering hers, not once breaking his gaze away from hers.

"Absolutely," he whispered, before his lips claimed hers in another searing kiss. Hermione sighed contentedly into his mouth, feeling the warmth of his body against hers, and she knew…she just knew.

They were definitely going to be late for lunch at the Burrow.

* * *

_So this chapter had a lot of loving going on, but it had to be done, because the next one isn't going to display much of it. Just trying to get my fill of it before that happens. Besides, wouldn't you have done the same thing?_

_Next chapter, Malfoy sets his plan in motion, whatever it is…_


	21. Darkness Falls

**Anywhere but in Between**

_I only own the plot._

_Thank you to all of you for your wonderful words of encouragement. Most of you are as anxious as I am to find out what Draco is up to. Sometimes, what I have planned isn't what the characters feel like doing, so we'll just have to see. That, however, is what this chapter is all about. There some Christmas at the Burrow, but hopefully not much so we can move on to the good stuff._

_Thanks again!_

**Chapter 21 – Darkness Falls**

Ron had always loved Christmas at the Burrow. It was by far his mother's favorite holiday, and she always did it up in the grandest way possible. This Christmas, she had pulled out all the stops, and Ron attributed it to the fact that she had everyone she loved back home at last.

The traditional Christmas feast was followed by mounds of gifts and wrapping paper littered the small living room from corner to corner. Amid the sounds of oohs and ahhs from opened presents was spontaneous laughter. Ron's whole body reverberated with the sounds. He couldn't remember feeling this content in a long, long while.

Hermione was cuddled up against his side, her eyes sliding over his family as if trying to memorize them. She was continuously smiling, and when her eyes rested on Harry and Ginny sitting so close the smile broke into a wide grin.

Ron had to admit, he had never seen his sister look so happy. Her eyes were sparkling again, and Ron knew that Harry was the main reason. Harry, himself, had Ron completely stumped. He had gotten so used to his best friend having a constant look of anticipation and restlessness on his face that Ron was pretty sure that nothing could have taken it away.

He was wrong. Harry appeared more calm and peaceful than he'd ever seen him, and it was an amazing sight to behold. Ron felt, for the first time in a long time, that Harry may in fact be digging himself out from under all the pain and anger he'd carried with him for as long as he'd known him.

"Ron, do you want to open your gift now, or wait until later?" Hermione broke into his thoughts. He looked down at the small, flat parcel she was holding in her hands.

"Are you kidding? I've been begging to open it for the last two weeks, haven't I?" he said, grabbing his gift from her. "I'm dying to find out what you got me –"

He quickly tore the paper away from his gift, and his eyes widened when he saw what lay in his hands.

"I know it's not much, but we did have a limit," reminded Hermione, inching closer to his side.

He turned over the two cards in his hands, their light cardboard weight transporting him back to his boyhood days. The old, wizened faces of Ptolemy and Agrippa, the only two wizards he was missing to complete his Wizarding Card set, stared back at him with twinkling eyes. He'd never stopped looking for them, and here they were, all his. The fact that she'd remembered meant more to him than he could express.

"I remembered how much you always wished you'd had a complete set, and I figured that it would be worth something one day," she continued to explain. "It's kind of a juvenile gift, I know, but –"

He cut her off by kissing her flush on the mouth, in front of his entire family. Fred and George whooped jovially, but he didn't care.

"It's the best gift anyone's given me in a long time," he said, after breaking their kiss. "I can't believe you remembered the exact cards I needed."

"I haven't forgotten a thing about you since I met you," she said quietly, her eyes shining into his. He smiled at her, and reached for his own gift to her.

"Well, then, I think you deserve to get this."

She eagerly took the package from him, her brow rising playfully. "It's shaped like a book, feels like a book…I wonder…"

Once the paper had been cleared, she saw that it indeed was a book. Her eyes scanned the cover. "The Most Influential Witches of the Past Century," she read aloud. Turning to him, she smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I love it, thank you," she said, running her hand down the leather cover.

Ron began laughing. "Hermione, do you really think that's it? I just gave you some random book?"

She eyed him suspiciously, then turned her attention back to the book. "Is it magical, or something?" she asked, prodding it with one finger, then opening the front cover to look for special pages.

"Here," he said, taking the book back from her and opening it to a page toward the end of the book. He leaned closer to her so she could look over his shoulder, and her eyes widened to the extent he was worried they'd pop clear out of her head.

On page 752, there was her name, Hermione Jane Granger. The large, bold, fancy cursive practically jumped off the page above a five-page write up of her adventures and accomplishments.

He leaned back to take in her reaction, and saw her eyes grow bright with unshed tears. She turned to face him, and he smiled again at her.

"How on Earth did you know about this?" she asked, her voice soft and quiet amidst the noise of the rest of the room.

"C'mon, if I revealed all my secrets, that'd be no fun now, would it?" he teased, kissing her lightly. "I'm assuming I did good, then?"

She hugged him so tightly around the neck that he was reminded of his mother's bone-crushing embraces. He laughed again and watched as Harry reached for the book.

"That's fantastic, Hermione," he said, a wide grin on his face. "I always knew you'd go down in history."

Ron released himself from Hermione's embrace and reached over to flip the book several pages further. "She's not the only one," he said, pointing at the name at the top of the page.

Harry's grin grew even wider as he tilted the book toward Ginny. "And there you go."

Ginny's eyes grew round like Hermione's had only moments ago, and she gasped when she saw her own name. "No way," she whispered, a look of disbelief on her face.

Ron saw his mother begin to cry as Fred and George grabbed the book from Harry to show her. Hermione and Ginny were now beaming at each other, a look of deep pride and affection evident on each of their faces. Fleur was clapping her hands as George read pieces of Ginny's article out loud, and Angelina was shoving Fred aside for a better look.

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly into his ear, after most of the commotion had died down. "That was the most thoughtful present anyone's ever given me."

"Hey, I thought I was all you needed," he said, tweaking her nose with the tip of his finger.

She smiled softly at him, pushing his hair out of his eyes in a familiar gesture. "I love you, big-head."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Ginny couldn't remember the last time her family looked so happy. Everyone was now spread out between the living room and kitchen, looking over their various gifts. Ginny and Harry hadn't yet opened each other's gifts, and she had to admit, she was a little reluctant to do so in front of her brothers.

Even though they had been together for a few months, openly, Fred and George were prone to teasing Harry as much as possible whenever they were around him. Bill tended to leave things alone, as did Ron, but Charlie was known to make a few well-worded cautionary messages whenever Harry appeared to be sitting too close or showing too much outward affection toward her. She knew it was mostly in teasing, but she couldn't help feel protective of Harry all the same.

"C'mon, Ginny, you still have one gift left," reminded Charlie now, gesturing to a small box lying at her feet. She glanced down at it, and met Harry's eyes. She was surprised to find him blushing a bit, and her curiosity got the better of her. Forget her brothers, she was dying to know what Harry had gotten her for their first holiday together.

She removed the wrapping from the packaging, and opened the lid. Something bright and shiny sparkled out from the depth of the box, and Ginny cautiously reached in to lift it out. A golden chain draped over her palm delicately, a tiny, brilliantly crafted snitch hanging from the middle.

Her heart stopped completely inside her chest for a very long moment; so much so, that she was finding it difficult to breathe. Harry's blush had deepened, and he turned positively crimson when Fred elbowed him in the ribs.

"One track mind, this one," he said good naturedly. "Once a Quidditch player, always a Quidditch player."

Ginny couldn't stop staring at the delicate jewelry resting in her hand. She knew Fred didn't understand, and he never would. This was something strictly between herself and Harry, and she couldn't believe he would make such a gesture.

She had been just as surprised as he was when she'd told him she loved him over a week ago. Once the words had come out, however, she realized just how much she meant them. And, even though he hadn't said them back, he had shown her in a million little ways since then that he felt the same way. This gift, this precious gift, was absolute proof of exactly that.

As Harry looked toward the floor, Fred and George still teasing him about his athletic choice of present for his new girlfriend, Ginny's mind spiraled back over four years ago.

It had been her sixth year, his seventh, and they had just finished a particularly grueling practice on the pitch. They were walking back to the locker room together, laughing over a play that had gone horribly wrong from beginning to end when a group of fifth year girls came over, giggling their heads off.

Each one of them had taken turns praising him for everything from his flying ability to his dirty Quidditch robes, and told him, in no uncertain terms, that they were all quite available. Ginny had looked on with utter fascination as Harry gently turned down each girl without them looking the least bit hurt or insulted. In fact, they seemed to like him all the better after the conversation was over.

After the girls had left, Harry had wanted to forget the whole embarrassing ordeal, but Ginny had playfully told him that he was a perfect seeker because he, himself, was so much like a snitch.

"All shiny and elusive, but whomever finally catches it wins the 'famous Harry Potter' himself," she teased, elbowing him in the side. "I can picture it now, dozens of women on broomsticks, flying after you as you appear for a second, then dive out of sight again. All of them reaching out, trying to nab you to end the game."

Harry had pulled a face at her, making her vow to never bring up such a disturbing scenario again.

Ginny was brought back to the present when George tried to take the charm from her hand. She closed her fist around it tightly, knowing that she would never part with it. Harry had made a gesture that spoke volumes to her, and if no one else understood, that was perfectly fine with her.

She had caught the uncatchable snitch.

"I love it," she said softly, ignoring Fred's confused look. Harry's blush slowly went away and he nodded his head, showing that he knew she understood the meaning behind the gift.

"So, what did you get loverboy, huh?" George asked, searching under the tree for Ginny's gift to Harry. "Just tell me it doesn't have to do with sporting events of any kind."

Ginny shook her head, reaching for Harry's present and handing it to him with great care. He unwrapped the long, thin box and lifted the lid carefully. She waited with bated breath as he discovered the leather-bound picture album and opened the front cover.

"I got Lupin to help me out," she explained as Harry's eyes fell on the first page's pictures. Ginny knew that he already had an album from Hagrid, but she'd seen it and there were only a few pictures in it. The sparse few that were there seemed to be from before Harry was born, and the Potters' wedding.

This album was a bit different. Lupin had found several pictures of them from school, and the book was at least twenty pages big. Harry's eyes devoured the photos almost hungrily, and even Fred and George knew that this was something he needed to do on his own without any teasing.

His face was unreadable as he took in the images of his parents waving to him, or looking at each other with love clearly visible in their expressions. A few pages into the album, his hand paused over one picture in particular.

When she leaned closer to see what he was looking at, it was a photograph of his mother, very pregnant, an almost ethereal smile upon her face as she looked down at her husband. His father was on his knees, his hands on either side of his wife's stomach, his cheek resting against their unborn child with his eyes closed in contentment. Lupin had included a note with this picture, explaining that he had taken this one shortly after Lily had began to go into labor, and it had instantly become Ginny's favorite among the bunch.

Harry took his eyes away from the pictures for a moment, finding her gaze on him. "Lupin gave you these?" he asked, his voice thick and deep with emotion. All she could do was simply nod.

The next few photographs were of a newborn Harry nestled in his mother's arms at the hospital. In one, mother and son were both sleeping peacefully, Lily's shining red hair splayed across her pillow as she cradled Harry snugly in her arms. In the one opposite it, Harry was being held like a china doll by his father, an expression of pure amazement on his face as he rocked his son back and forth.

She let Harry look over the rest of the pictures quietly, joining her brother and Hermione on the couch to look at the famous witches book. She had nearly read the entire article on Hermione when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at Harry, who said nothing. Instead, he took her hand, pulled her up, and gathered her into his arms.

They didn't speak. His arms held her as tightly to him as he could without hurting her, and they remained like that for a very long time. When they finally parted, he took her face in his hands and kissed her, softly, before sitting in between Ron and Hermione on the couch to show them the photographs.

Ginny watched as Harry showed his best friends a part of his life that he had never known, and her heart filled with such a surge of love that she was sure it would bring her to her knees. She decided to join her mother in the kitchen, suddenly feeling the need to be close to her.

When she entered the kitchen, she snuck up behind her mother and hugged her around the middle.

"Oh, dear, you startled me," she exclaimed, lacing her own hands on top of Ginny's arms. Ginny only hugged her tighter, burying her head against her mother's back.

"I love you, mum," she said softly, as her mother began to rock on each foot as she had done when Ginny was a little girl.

"I love you too, sweetheart, but what's this about?" her mother replied, turning in her arms to face her. She brushed a strand of hair away from Ginny's eyes, which began to well up despite her intentions.

"I'm just happy, I guess," she said, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. Her mother smiled gently at her, and took her face in her hands.

"You know something? That's the best Christmas present you could have ever given me," she said, and Ginny felt that she was finally home, at last.

* * *

Much later, after nearly everyone had gone home, Harry pulled Ron aside. "I need to talk to you," he said, "and I don't want Ginny to overhear us."

Ron's eyes grew wide. "You're not going to propose or anything, are you?" he asked incredulously. Harry shot him a look, and Ron sighed. "You know, you shouldn't start conversations like that with the big brother of the girl you're dating."

They made their way upstairs to Ron's old room, and as soon as the door closed behind him, Harry explained his and Ginny's run-in with Draco Malfoy earlier in the week.

Ron sank onto his bed, running a hand through his hair. "Why didn't you let me know before this?" he asked.

"I don't know. I guess I just put it out of my head as long as possible, trying to convince myself that nothing was going to come of it," he said, sitting in Ron's desk chair. "But I haven't been able to shake this feeling that we haven't heard the last from him."

Ron's eyes grew dark with anger. "If he so much as comes near her, I'll –"

"I know," Harry cut him off. "I just don't think it's going to be that easy. He knows where she works, and he seemed pretty hell bent on getting some sort of revenge for his father."

"Well, my dad and I work at the Ministry, and besides, I don't think Malfoy is that stupid to come after her there," he said, and Harry could see the wheels turning in his head. Ron's training as a profiler had made him astoundingly good at reading people. "He also never acts alone. Remember in school? He didn't do anything unless he had plenty of backup."

Harry considered this. "Do you think he's going to try and gather Voldemort supporters and make a stand again?" he asked, all of the old insecurities and doubts beginning to resurface again.

"I don't see how he could. Most of them are in Azkaban, and a good amount of them died in the war," Ron reasoned. He pushed up off the bed and began pacing. "There can't be many left that didn't expose themselves the first time."

"What about a break in?" Harry asked, looking up sharply. "Azkaban is not impenetrable. If we've learned anything from the past, it has to be that."

Ron shook his head. "After the war, the ministry tripled the security measures and created a branch to oversee the prison itself," he explained. "It's not impenetrable, but it's as damn near close to it as it can possibly get."

Harry sighed heavily in frustration. "I just don't like this. I've felt this way before, and I was always right." He rubbed at his eyes behind his glasses. If Malfoy had a plan, they had to figure out what it was so they could put a stop to it before it began. No one, not one single witch or wizard they knew could handle another war so soon after the last one. People were still rebuilding their lives…

Ron stopped pacing and leaned against the window frame, looking out into the backyard. "It can't happen again, not now," he said, his voice so low that Harry had to strain to hear him. Suddenly, a look unlike he'd never seen before came across Ron's face as he resolutely turned from the window to face Harry.

"When I get back to work tomorrow, I'll keep my ears open for anything. I'll start working up some stuff, maybe let a few guys I trust in my department in on this, just to have more eyes and ears out there," he said.

Harry nodded. He knew what he had to do. Two years ago, after the war had ended and before he had boarded the train away from all he knew, Harry was offered the position of Auror in the ministry. He'd turned it down flat, knowing then that he didn't want to devote his life to fighting evil after watching it claim so many of his friends.

Now, though, he realized how selfish and stupid he had been. Keeping his friends safe was the only thing that was important to him, and if that meant accepting the offer - if it was still available - and fighting the battles that needed to be fought, then so be it.

He told Ron of his plan, and Ron nodded in agreement. "That would give you a level of access to information that not many people have," he said. "I mean, my department's clearance is fairly high, and we meet with them almost daily to exchange information."

He smiled wanly.

"Looks like it's Potty and Weasel at it again, huh?"

* * *

There were two people, sitting in almost complete darkness that Christmas day that were neither celebrating nor surrounded by loved ones. As a small fire crackled in the grate of his large manor atop London, Draco watched the embers collide and burn each other up.

"Are you sure that now is the right time to make our move?" he asked, his voice echoing in the cold and empty room.

"Why not?" a voice replied, higher, more demanding than his father's had ever been. "You said yourself that Potter is back, and their side is still extremely weak from the war."

"But so are we," he reasoned, swirling the purple liquid of his goblet around and around. "We cannot sustain any more losses, or the cause itself will be lost."

"Are you afraid of him?" mimicked the voice from the deep shadows, taunting him, prodding him as if he were still a little boy.

"I'm warning you, that's the last you will ever speak of such things!" he spat, coming up out of his chair. He cast his cold eyes into the darkness. He couldn't make out her shape, but he knew that she was grinning in that sickeningly maniacal way of hers. "Harry Potter is nothing more than a lucky boy with powerful friends who protected him his whole life! Besides," he said, forcing himself to calm down as he lowered himself back into his chair in front of the fire, "it's not him I'm concerned with."

"I am."

"I know," he replied, returning his gaze to the fire. "And you can have him. My one concern is my father's murderer and her insipid family."

"So, are you ready to begin, then?" the hollow, high-pitched voice called out to him impatiently.

"Yes," he whispered, the fire reflecting in his silvery eyes.

"Won't they be surprised to find out that I've been alive all this time and right under their noses, kept safe by you, Draco?" she said darkly, then laughing in amusement at the thought.

"Indeed," he drawled, tossing his goblet into the fire and watching it burn. "But I suppose that's the beauty of a secret keeper, my dear cousin." He turned to face her in the dark, and this time, there was a smile on his own face.

"Just promise me one thing," he said, leaning forward so his message was clear.

"Anything."

"Promise me you'll tell me, in great detail, what Potter's face looks like in the moment he realizes that he's about to be killed by the person who murdered his beloved godfather."

Bellatrix laughed again, the sound bouncing off the stone walls and enveloping them both as the snow began to fall outside.

* * *

_Oooh, it was almost as much fun to write the evil parts as it was the fluff…does that make me a bad person? Oh, I don't care, that was a hell of a lot of fun!_

_As always, my very dear readers, your thoughts and feedback are more than appreciated. It truly keeps this story going…_


	22. At the Beginning

**Anywhere but in Between**

_I only own the plot._

_Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the wonderful encouragement. Some of your reviews literally had me smiling for hours…it feels so good to have something you work on appreciated on such a level._

_By the way, has anyone seen the trailer for Goblet of Fire? I love it, and I'm so excited. Question: How many of you think Ron is looking at Hermione for the first time in her dress robes when they show him at the beginning of the trailer? His face is shocked at first, then he sort of smiles and steps forward…maybe it's just my wishful thinking. I downloaded the trailer off the net, and I'd recommend it to anyone. Viktor looks pretty dishy, too!_

_Well, on with the show._

**Chapter 22 – At The Beginning**

For over three months there wasn't even the merest whisper of trouble in the air, and that was making Ginny more nervous than anything. The silence was disturbing. They were all positive that something was in the works, but to have absolutely no proof…

Harry's Auror training was quick and intense. Apparently, they had been simply waiting for the day that he would come walking through their door. He was very busy trying to keep up with the duties of the Aurors, all the while keeping an ear out for any news that might help them build a case on Malfoy, who had mysteriously vanished from sight shortly after the holidays.

The ministry had listened to them all - Ron, Harry and herself - and agreed that it was indeed possible that there were still Voldemort supporters out there that had slipped through the cracks. However, with nothing solid to go on, they couldn't make a move against any one individual unless they had cause to.

This reasoning angered Ron the most. He kept grumbling about how stupid it was to wait for someone to be attacked, possibly killed, so they could have proof. He was angry with the ministry, and with himself. As a profiler, he felt that by now he should have some kind of idea what Malfoy and his cohorts would be up to, but he was coming up blank, along with the rest of his team.

Ginny hated to see her brother like this. He was pushing himself way too hard and taking it way too personally. She had decided this morning that he needed a break, and so she was on her way to collect him from his office and drag him to lunch, whether he liked it or not.

When she entered his office, she could see that she was just in time. He was bent over his desk, his elbows on stacks of papers with his hands folded around the back of his neck. He looked more strained and tired than she'd seen him in a while. His eyes were flying back and forth over the words on the document laid out before him, and he was muttering to himself under his breath.

"Ron," she said, breaking into his private musings. His head snapped up and she could see the dark circles under his eyes. "Come on, big brother, I'm taking you to lunch."

"Nah, thanks though Ginny," he said, giving her a quick smile before going back to the paper. "Too much to do around here today."

"You have to eat," she said, entering his cluttered office and taking a seat across from him. "You can put this off for an hour, and you'll feel much more clear-headed when you come back to it."

"Not hungry," he said, and she could see that in his mind, she was already out of the room. She leaned across the desk and snatched up the paper in front of him. "Hey," he said, attempting to grab it back. "Ginny, I'm busy."

Apparently, she had to try a different approach. "I know, but I really need to talk to you," she lied, scrunching up her face in what she hoped was a sad, desperate look. "Please?"

He stopped trying to reach for the paper in her hands and his eyes grew serious. "What is it? Is it you and Harry?"

Ginny silently sent up a prayer that it was most definitely not her and Harry. "Yes," she said, making her voice sound very small. "It's me and Harry."

Ron sighed, patting her hand gently. "Alright, Gin. Let me just tell my boss I'm taking off for a bit."

Ginny watched as Ron spoke with an older wizard a few doors down. She hated lying to her brother, but if it was the only way to get him to take care of himself, if only for an hour, then so be it. He'd forgive her easy enough.

* * *

"What do you mean, you and Harry are just fine?" he said sharply, his eyes narrowing at her from across the restaurant table. "I only agreed to come because you said you needed to talk to me about him."

"No, actually I only said I had to talk to you. You assumed Harry and I were having problems," she reasoned. His eyes remained narrowed in anger, but she didn't care. As long as he ate something and had a chance to see something besides the four walls of his office, she didn't care.

"Ginny, I really was busy. I don't have time for leisurely lunches in town," he argued. "I usually just grab something on the go and get back to it."

"I know, Hermione told me," she said. At Hermione's name, Ron's eyes lost some of their anger.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, looking uncomfortable at the thought of his sister and his girlfriend discussing his life.

"She said that you haven't been yourself lately," she explained. "She says that when you see her after work you're preoccupied and tired, and you can't stop talking about this Malfoy thing."

Ron opened his mouth as if to argue back, but nothing came out. He had an unreadable expression on his face as he ran a hand through his hair. Finally, he sighed deeply. "She's not angry with me or anything, is she?" he asked, looking as if he were almost afraid of the answer.

"No, of course not," Ginny replied quickly. "She's just worried about you, like I am. You look horrible Ron, if you want the truth, and you have to start getting some rest or you're going to drive yourself crazy."

"Ginny, you don't know how frustrating it is to know, deep in your bones, that Malfoy is up to something big, and not be able to do a damn thing about it," he said wearily.

Ginny scoffed at him. "I don't know how frustrating it is? Ron, we're all in the same boat, here. We all know he's going to make a move, but we don't know what it is."

"Yeah, but it's my job to know what it is," mumbled Ron, and Ginny finally saw what was bothering him so much. He was quiet for a minute, as the waiter filled their water goblets, and when he left, Ron shrugged helplessly.

"Harry's an Auror, so if I don't figure this out before it comes down to a battle, or another war, he'll be on the front lines…again. Hermione works at the hospital, and if we fight again, she'll have to see all of those innocent people stretched out before her. Mum and Dad know that if there's another battle, we'll all be involved, and they can't take losing any of us…" he trailed off, and Ginny swallowed thickly to keep the lump from rising in her throat.

She took in his helpless expression and she had never felt so proud of him in all her life. Here he was, practically killing himself to figure out what Malfoy had planned before it became deadly to anyone, just so everyone else would be safe.

"You'll figure it out," she asserted quietly, giving him a small smile. "And if worst comes to worst, and you don't, we are going to be just fine. We were before, and we will be again. You can't take on this burden all by yourself."

"I know," he admitted. "I just feel that the answer is right under my nose, and I've been overlooking it."

"Well, what is it that you already have? Perhaps if you talk about it, it'll make more sense to you," she said, settling back in her chair.

"We don't have much. Not much has happened in the last few months, and any time there was a suspicion of something going on, by the time the ministry intervened, there was nothing to find. It's almost like we're two steps behind," he said, the frustration evident in his voice.

"What else?" she asked.

"I only know three things for sure," he said. "If Malfoy is going to move against us, he won't act alone. He never has, and he's not strong enough or smart enough to pull it off without help. Second, he'll start by attacking people he thinks are helpless, weaker, less-trained than he is so he'll be assured some kind of victory. He never did anything unless he thought he could succeed, or buy his success."

Ginny nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly with what Ron had said so far. She had to admit, her brother certainly knew what he was doing.

When he didn't finish his list, however, she had to prod him to continue. "And?"

"And what?" he asked, suddenly becoming very interested with the pattern of the tablecloth.

"You said there were three things you knew for sure," she replied.

"No I didn't," he answered quickly. Too quickly.

"Ron, you are a horrible liar. What's the third thing you know for sure?" she said, trying to pin him down with her gaze. His eyes refused to meet hers, however, and then she knew. Somehow, without him having to say it out loud, she knew the third thing Malfoy would do for sure.

"He'll come after me," she said in a flat voice, and Ron flinched ever so slightly. She nodded, knowing that she had hit it right on the mark. "Of course. He blames me for his father's imprisonment, and since that's where he died, I become his father's killer."

Ron sighed deeply again, raising his eyes to her. "Ginny, I could be wrong about this, and I'm hoping I am. Either way – "

"You're not wrong about this," she said evenly. "You're brilliant at what you do, at strategy, and it makes perfect sense. But either way," she said, cutting a severe look at him, "you're not going to let anything happen to me, is that right?"

"Of course I'm not going to –"

She cut him off again. "Alright, stop. Stop right there. You are not going to concern yourself over this, because I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. If you and Harry start playing boy heroes again, protecting little, helpless me, you're going to miss something. Then it will have been my fault that someone else suffers, or God forbid, dies, because everyone was so busy looking out for me that they forgot to do their jobs."

"We don't think you're helpless, Ginny," Ron said in such a quiet voice that she had to strain to hear. His face was clouded as he continued. "We know you're capable of protecting yourself, it's just that, with Percy first, I wouldn't be able to handle it if you…"

He trailed off, and Ginny reached across the table for his hand. "I'm not going anywhere, big brother, so don't write me off just yet."

He chuckled softly, patting her hand on top of his. "You just need to promise me that you won't go off anywhere on your own for a while, at least until I know more about what's going on. I have this awful suspicion that he's going to make his move soon. Malfoy was never one known for having any kind of patience."

"I promise," she said, realizing that even if she wanted to go off alone, she couldn't. Not with still living at home, working at the ministry and visiting Harry as often as she did. There was always someone around. She was never really alone.

"Good," he said, seeming to relax enough to begin picking at his food. "I'm still mad that you tricked me into lunch, but I'm also kind of glad you did."

Ginny smiled as he dug into the potatoes in front of him. If there was one thing she never should have worried about, it was Ron's appetite disappearing for too long.

* * *

By the time June arrived, Hermione was at her wit's end. She hated the strain that everyone was under – especially Ron. He hadn't slept properly in over five months, and even though he said that he was fine about ten times a day, she could tell that he was beginning to come to the end of his tether.

She wished she could help him in some way, but her duties at the hospital took up every spare moment of her time. She couldn't afford to go off and 'solve the mystery' with Ron and Harry like she used to at school. She had patients, and they needed her even more than the boys did.

Sighing to herself, she rounded the corner of the Emergency wing before she had even realized this wasn't the floor she was supposed to be on. Today, she was on rounds on the children's ward. She stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, sighing again at her distracted thoughtlessness, and turned on her heel to go back where she belonged.

Suddenly, without warning, the doors to her immediate right burst open and a woman was being magically whooshed past her into a private room. She was screaming so loudly and so fearfully that it sent shivers up and down Hermione's arms as she stood outside the room, almost paralyzed.

The last time she had heard screams like that was during the siege on the ministry, when the Death Eaters had attacked. The commotion, the chaos, the piercing bone-chilling shrieks of dozens of people falling at the hands of those monsters…

"Dr. Granger, are you available?" a healer's assistant called from the bedside of the hysterical woman. Hermione spared a quick glance down at her files, and saw that most of her patients were in their treatment sessions at this point in the day.

"Dr. Granger!"

"Yes, yes I'm free," she said quickly, rushing into the woman's room. When she saw the woman more closely, a horrific feeling of déjà vu swept over her. The shrieking was one thing, but to see the same look of unmitigated terror that she had seen over three years ago was another thing completely. It was as if a giant, invisible hand had grabbed her and thrown her back into the past.

She knew now that somewhere, Malfoy and whomever he was working with or for had made their first move.

Hermione barked out a few orders to the assistants in the room, and then called for a backup doctor. She wouldn't be able to stay with this woman very long, since she had to eventually see to the children on her floor, but for now, she had to do what she could to calm the patient.

"M'am, can you tell me your name?" she asked, checking all outward signs and performing a quick sweep of the arms and legs. The woman, however, kept screaming as if death itself was chasing her, and finally, Hermione had to wave her wand to conjure up a sedative. She wouldn't be able to touch this poor woman without it, and she had to do an examination to see what spell had her in such a state.

In mere moments, the woman's eyes closed slowly, allowing Hermione time to do what she had to do. None of the counter-curses seemed to be working however, since despite being much, much calmer, the woman was twitching like mad.

About five minutes later, a man Hermione only knew as Dr. Yardley appeared at the door and told her that he would take over from here. She handed him the file, wished him luck, and left to attend to her other patients.

All throughout the rest of her rounds, her mind kept snapping back to the woman on the floor above her. She knew that she wouldn't be able to rest at all that night without knowing what was wrong with her. Since her shift ended in a few minutes, she decided she'd stick around and find out as much as possible about the situation.

When she reached the floor, however, there was no sign of a doctor anywhere. With as hysterical as the woman was earlier that day, Hermione found it very odd.

"Excuse me," she said, stopping a passing assistant. She glanced down at the older woman's nametag. "Alice, where is this woman's doctor?"

The assistant shrugged helplessly. "He had other patients to see. Said there wasn't much more he could do for her... thinks her mind is completely gone. She's saying things that couldn't possibly be true, saying she's seen people that have been known to be dead for the last few years."

Hermione's blood ran cold in her veins. "What has she said? Who did she say she saw?"

"Well, she named a few old Death Eaters, ones that were on the list of the dead after the war. McNair, Goyle, Adams, Farnsworth, Vickers, the list just kept going – about thirty names in all. Poor dear," she added, casting a sorrowful look at the door. "It's one thing to be put under a curse, but to start seeing dead people…" she shuddered.

Hermione's chest constricted so tightly that she was sure she was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. As Alice walked away, Hermione withdrew inside herself as she always did when she was trying to figure something out.

They never did any examinations of the bodies of the fallen Death Eaters, she recalled. Most people just wanted to clear the bodies out of the ministry and continue rebuilding.

She smacked the files she was carrying against her forehead. How could they have been so stupid…so careless. No one had examined or autopsied the bodies, and if they had in fact been under some kind of enchantment, the Death Eaters would be re-organizing when summoned to do so.

But Malfoy? She didn't buy it. They would never follow him into battle. Not a spoiled, privileged, young, inexperienced young man who didn't even fight during the first war. It didn't add up. There must be someone else pulling the strings. Someone powerful and dangerous enough to have concocted this safety measure in the first place. Someone who was loyal enough to Voldemort to literally rise from the dead to defend his true cause.

Hermione found herself walking into the woman's room without even thinking twice about it. She needed to know what this woman saw that was so horrible, so terrifying that it had taken over ten hours just to get her to stop twitching uncontrollably on the bed.

As she approached the woman's bed, she could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage. What if she woke up screaming, and she couldn't calm her down again? Should she wake a patient who was finally resting just to get information out of her that she was clearly terrified of revealing?

Luckily she didn't have to find out. Just as she put a hand out to gently wake the patient, someone else's came down on her shoulder. Stifling her own scream of fright, Hermione swung around to see Dr. Yardley staring at her disapprovingly. He gestured out of the room, and she led the way into the brightly lit ward.

"What is it you thought you were doing back there, Dr. Granger?" he asked reproachfully.

"I'm so sorry," she said, sincerely meaning it. "I wasn't thinking clearly. I should have come to find you, sir, because I need more information about that woman in there and what she saw today."

Dr. Yardley sighed deeply, running a hand over his weary face. "Listen, Dr. Granger. Ms. Adderson is delusional. She didn't stop screaming until well after noon, and then when she did, she started babbling about people who have long since died."

"I know," Hermione hastily explained. "One of the nurses on the floor said the patient was naming former Death Eaters who reportedly died in the war."

"Yes, she was."

"Dr. Yardley, this is very important. I need to know everything she said. Everything," she emphasized, when she saw the older man's face cloud with confusion.

"I don't see how the ramblings of a very disturbed woman could possibly –"

"Look!" Hermione yelled, completely dropping all pretenses of professional demeanor. "I don't care if you don't understand. If I'm telling you it's important, then I expect you to believe me!"

Silence rang out in the corridor after the echoes of her rant had dissipated. Dr. Yardley considered her for a long moment, before sighing in resignation.

"Fine. If only to keep you from waking my patients, Dr. Granger, I'll repeat exactly what she said to me. You have to promise me one thing, though. After I tell you what she said, you will leave my floor immediately, and you will not, under any circumstances, enter that woman's room without my explicit permission."

Hermione listened with a heavy heart as he reported that Ms. Adderson claimed to have been taken to a house, much like an old-style English Manor, and was surrounded by the same men and women that Alice had mentioned earlier. And her stomach practically dropped out of her when the doctor went on to say that a young, silver-haired man stood listening off to the side while the supposedly surviving Death Eaters taunted her mercilessly.

"This silver-haired man," Hermione interrupted quietly, "did she happen to mention a name?"

"No, but she did say that he was talking to someone in the shadows, and that's where her story becomes completely preposterous."

"And why is that?" Hermione asked, almost afraid of his response.

"Because she says that right before she was let go, a woman approached her and told her she was being allowed to live to deliver a message," he said, now starting to look slightly uncomfortable.

"What was the message?" she said, even more quietly than before.

"It's ludicrous, I tell you. The poor woman believes that she was allowed to live so everyone will know that You-Know-Who, although dead, is not forgotten in the hearts of those who believe. She said that the woman in the shadows made it expressly clear that she was to survive long enough to tell others that death is waiting for them at the beginning."

Hermione felt like her knees were about to give out. "The beginning? What does that mean?"

"It means nothing, Dr. Granger. I told you, she's delusional," he said, finality in his voice.

"Was Ms. Adderson able to tell you who the woman was who approached her?" she barely managed to get out. She had a sinking suspicion she already knew, seeing as how there could only be one woman smart enough, deadly enough, to completely befuddle the entire Ministry of Magic into thinking she was dead. There was only one woman who was that loyal to her master. Only one who had something to live for, enough to assume the role of a dead person for so many years.

"I told you, it's totally preposterous," he demanded.

"Try me."

"Fine," he said, clearly past his limit of patience with her. "She said the woman was Bellatrix LeStrange. A woman who has been dead for the past three years."

Hermione closed her eyes, as her senses went into overload. She could feel the ground move underneath her as her feet rocked her unsteadily.

"You look pale," Dr. Yardley said, bracing her with a hand. "You mustn't trouble yourself over this. She has been put under so many hexes that she barely knew her name. It's pure gibberish, if you ask me, and I for one won't be losing any sleep over such nonsense."

Hermione could only nod stiffly at him as he gave her one last look to see if she was alright, and moved on down the hall to another patient's room.

"Oh my God," she whispered into the silence that followed the retreating sound of his shoes. She stood utterly still for a very long moment, trying to gather some kind of a hold on herself.

In the next instant, however, she sprang to life, running for the elevators as if being chased by the devil himself.

* * *

Harry listened to Hermione re-enact her conversation with the doctor with a sinking heart. The more details she gave, the more it felt as if someone was crushing him under a five ton weight. As Ginny listened to Hermione, she looked more and more frightened, and Harry knew why. He, himself, had never seen Hermione look so…unglued.

When Hermione finished retelling all the information she had gotten, the silence that enveloped them all was so heavy it threatened to crash down upon their heads. Ginny was staring into the fireplace, her face ashen and her hands shaking like mad. Ron was sitting next to Hermione on the couch, one hand holding hers. He, too, was staring off into space blankly.

Harry clutched his wand so tightly that it cut into his palm. He tucked it into his robes as his mind played over the same thought again and again. So this was it. Malfoy had found a way to keep some of the Death Eaters alive, and he was going to make his move. Death was waiting for them at the beginning.

There were too many unanswered questions, and he needed to know the answers.

"How are they all still alive? How is Bellatrix alive?" he asked, to no one in particular. "It just doesn't seem possible that they could remain hidden all these years."

Hermione nodded. "I know, that was bothering me too. People have been posted everywhere, looking for signs of insurrection. Surely, none of them could have resisted going into public once in all this time."

Ron was pacing now, and Harry could see him trying to make the pieces fit. "It's like they made themselves invisible," he said aloud. "All these years…do you think they used invisibility cloaks?"

"Too simple," Hermione replied, her gaze now focused on the fire as well. "And too untrustworthy. What if they'd come off as they were walking around somewhere. Plus, you can still be heard under a cloak."

"What about a spell to make someone invisible?" tossed in Ginny. "The whole lot of them could have been charmed by Voldemort or by someone else right at the end of the battle just in case…"

"Yeah, but people saw their bodies," reminded Ron. "It couldn't have been a re-animation spell. They couldn't have come up with all the ingredients they needed on the spot like that, and besides, with all the magic going on in that building, the spell wouldn't have worked."

Harry was thinking so hard his head began to hurt. He dropped his head into his hands, and felt the outline of his scar. Voldemort had planned for this. He had made a safeguard in his grand scheme and if they couldn't figure this out, he would wind up winning after all.

He couldn't let that happen. People had fought too hard the first time, risked and lost so much. They needed to piece this together as quickly as possible.

Ron slammed his fist against the mantle of the fireplace angrily. "How could they do that? How could we have been living right on top of them all these years and never know they were there?"

Something in his words caused Harry to sit up straight. He had heard that before. At some time, in some way…

Suddenly, he knew how the Death Eaters had remained hidden in plain sight.

"Malfoy was their secret keeper," he said simply, staring at Ron. "He was the only one who knew they were alive, and we could walk right into their houses and not see them."

"Of course," Hermione whispered, looking angry with herself for not having figured it out sooner. "Of course…"

Ginny leaned back against Harry's legs, as if trying to draw support. "That's all well and good, you guys, but it's not going to help us figure out what their next move is going to be. It doesn't help us figure out what Bellatrix meant by 'the beginning', does it?"

Ron resumed his pacing, muttering almost incoherently to himself. "The beginning…what does that…beginning…it's not the Riddle house…"

Hermione watched him pace with a worried expression etched in her face. She sighed quietly, and finally turned her eyes away as if it was too painful to watch him any longer.

Harry wanted to say something to her, to erase the look off her face, but he couldn't find the words of comfort. He reached out to touch Ginny's head, at least grounding himself enough in reality that he could remain focused.

Ron was facing the wall, but his mutterings were much clearer. "What do they all have in common? They are witches and wizards who were all trained in the dark arts. But that's not the beginning. Their homes? Many of their parents were never found to be Death Eaters. Besides, how could they attack all those places at once and still remain strong in numbers?"

Ginny looked over her shoulder at Harry, who read her concern for her brother clearly in her eyes. He gave her a small half smile of encouragement. "Don't worry. He always talked to himself when we played chess."

Ginny seemed to accept the explanation, and continued to watch Ron as he guided himself around his thoughts.

"It has to be somewhere vulnerable. There aren't enough of them to attack somewhere like the ministry. They won't take on great numbers of more powerful witches or wizards, either…"

Suddenly, his body grew extremely rigid, and he whipped around to face them.

"Harry, you have to get to the ministry right now and tell them to send as many people as possible to Hogwarts!" he commanded, striding over to the table to collect his wand.

"What?" Harry exclaimed, stupefied. "Ron, you can't be serious! Hogwarts has about a million protections on it, especially since the war. They wouldn't be foolish enough –"

But Hermione, after only a moment's consideration, had leapt up off the couch as well. "Harry, Ron's right. If they are going back to the beginning, it's got to be Hogwarts. They were all students there at one time or another, weren't they? It's the beginning of their magical training. It allows them to know all the little secrets that protect Hogwarts as well…it's got to be the school."

Ron stopped moving long enough to pierce Harry with a look. "Think about it. Malfoy is a coward, and their side is weak. He's going to go to the one place where he knows he can be stronger, and smarter than the majority. There are only so many teachers there to protect all of those students. They'll demolish half the school before they know what hit them."

Harry didn't need any more convincing. He grabbed his cloak and took out his wand, but before he could disapparate, Ginny grabbed his arm.

"I'm coming with you," she said evenly.

He opened his mouth to protest, but he knew from her look it would be no use. He nodded slightly, but touched her cheek in earnest. "You promise me, right now, that once we get to Hogwarts, you won't go off alone. Malfoy is going to try to separate us so he can get you by yourself."

"And Bellatrix is going to try and get you alone, too," she reasoned, covering his hand with her own. "I'll promise you if you promise me."

He kissed her quickly and nodded. Then he looked over to Ron and Hermione, who were holding each other very close, looking into each other's eyes.

"Where are we going to find you two?" he asked, drawing Ron's attention.

"We're going to fly on ahead to the school to see if we can at least get the kids sent home before they decide to attack," he said resolutely.

Ginny flinched beside him, and he knew she was thinking the same thing. "What if they're already there?" he asked, visions of his best friends walking into that all alone flying through his mind.

Hermione smiled weakly at him. "Then you'd better do a damn good job convincing people at the ministry quickly, Harry."

The four of them looked at each other for a long moment, none saying another word. Then, raising their wands, they all disapparated, each hoping that they weren't already too late.

* * *

_Wow, that was **monumentally** difficult to write. I am very glad that this is almost over. That took a lot out of me!Next chapter will be the battle at Hogwarts, and then one more chapter to wrap things up. There may be gaps in the storytelling of the next chapter, just because I am following four people. I'll try and streamline it as much as possible. _

As always, thanks for reading…and if I can ask a favor…I really would like to know what you specifically think about this chapter in particular. It was by far the most difficult for me to produce, but I tried my absolute best…I'm no J.K. Rowling.


	23. The Battle at Hogwarts

**Anywhere but in Between**

_I only own the plot._

_So I haven't done this in a while, but I must now. _

_Thanks lostinwonderland for your amazing words and compliments. Your reviews have helped me keep this story on track, more than you know. Radpak, your review had me bursting out of my skin. I have never received a higher compliment. AngelicOne, you've stuck with me since the beginning, and I love seeing your reviews pop up on my screen. It's like the weekly phone calls from friends…Jenulus, thanks for your support. I'm glad that you wanted me to come back, it's really only because of you guys that I came back to it at all. HeatherGranger, suckr4romance, ffadix, paulalou…you guys are so consistent with your support of me, reviewing every chapter and telling me specifically what you liked, it's amazing. It's so much more help to me than I can express. Having another pair of eyes on this is really keeping me in check, making this the story that it is. All I'm doing is following all of your advice and encouragement._

_So, thank you._

_By the way, this story will be this chapter and one more, and that is all. I need to be done by Friday. I will try my utmost best to do that._

_Well, we're at the battle, which I have a feeling is going to be harder to write than the last chapter, so let's get on with things._

**Chapter 23 – The Battle at Hogwarts**

By the time they reached Hogwarts, Ron was gasping for breath and Hermione was holding a stitch in her side. Nevertheless, they ran up the large stone steps to the entrance to the Front Hall and came barreling through the doors at top speed.

Ron came to a screeching halt, however, when he heard the sounds of the students laughing and chattering to each other as they disappeared into various classrooms.

"Hermione," he called back to her, for she had stopped a few feet behind him to try and catch her breath, "what do we do first?"

Hermione pushed herself into an upright position and a look of fierce concentration crossed her face. Ron had seen that look many times before, and it actually made him feel better about the situation. She only got that look when she was searching for the most absolute, most concrete of answers. The hall was now completely silent, signaling that all students were safely in a classroom with a teacher for now.

"Okay, first I think we need to get the students into their common rooms. They're too scattered for anyone to protect them right now. You find Flitwick, Lupin, Snape and Sprout and explain things to them. I'll go find McGonagall and then we can figure things out from there," she said, already moving past him to climb the large staircase before them.

He reached out for her arm and pulled her back to him quickly. "If something happens…"

She threw her arms around him and kissed him quickly, stopping any further conversation.

She broke away quickly, pinning him with an unwavering gaze. "Let's get this done with, so we won't ever have to be worried about being separated again. Deal?"

He nodded, and their hands came apart as she bolted up the staircase.

When Hermione got to the entrance to the Dumbledore's old quarters, she realized with a sinking heart that she didn't know the password. McGonagall must have changed it since Dumbledore's time, and she had no idea as to what it could be.

Grunting in frustration, she began pacing the floor in front of the large stone phoenix guarding the entrance. She didn't have any time to waste. She would have to just start spouting out whatever came to mind.

"Quidditch…Animagus…Transfiguration…House Cup…Gryffindor..." The phoenix remained solid and stationary as Hermione's brain rattled with possibilities. Maybe McGonagall would choose something to honor Dumbledore, but she couldn't wrap her mind around what it could possibly be.

"Albus Dumbledore…Headmaster…Order of the Phoenix…Fawkes…Dumbledore's Army…"

Still nothing. She slapped her hand against the cold stone, praying for something, anything, to help her get inside. Suddenly, she remembered something Harry had told her a very long time ago.

"_I swear, the man is completely nutters…brilliant beyond belief, but nutters…he's the most powerful wizard of all time and he turns into a five year old if you wave Lemon Drops under his nose…"_

"Lemon Drops!" Hermione shouted, almost desperately. To her immense relief and mild amusement, the phoenix sprang to life and began twisting slowly to reveal a staircase. She wasted no time and jumped on the revolving stones and prayed that the new headmistress was in.

Luck seemed to be with her – she only hoped it would hold out – when she spotted McGonagall sitting behind the large oak desk reviewing some odd looking papers.

"Professor…I mean, Headmistress…" Hermione rasped, still exhausted from all of her running about. McGonagall looked up in shock upon hearing her voice.

"Ms. Granger, what on Earth…"

"There's no time to explain everything," she said, approaching the desk. "All I'm asking is that you trust me enough to act first, and once the students are safe, I'll go into details."

At the mention of her students, McGonagall's worn, tired-looking face tightened into a look of concern. To her credit, however, she didn't question Hermione any further. She simply nodded and with a steady voice asked, "What is it you need me to do?"

"We need to send the students home," Hermione said, starting to pace again. "I'm just not sure how we can do it. The train is too conspicuous, no one can apparate out of the school, the fireplaces…maybe…"

McGonagall rose out of her chair. "At the very least, Ms. Granger, you need to tell me just why we're sending the students home without notifying their parents first."

Hermione stopped pacing long enough to fix McGonagall with a very serious look. "The Death Eaters are expected to attack Hogwarts at any moment. Please," she added, holding up her hand when she saw her old teacher's mouth open in protest. "I'm just asking you to trust me for now. I promise you I'll fill you in later."

McGonagall cleared her throat and a moment later, she put herself into motion. "Fine, this is what we are going to do," she said, grabbing her wand from the edge of the desk and giving Dumbledore's picture a long look before breezing by Hermione. "The students will be notified to go back to their dormitories, and –"

"Ron is already getting the heads of the houses to do that, miss," Hermione interrupted.

"Ah, so the whole gang is here, are they?" she asked, not so much in fond remembrance but almost in a shaken, foreboding way. The last time she had seen them all together, Hermione recalled, was during the last battle of the war. She could understand McGonagall's reservations now.

"Very well, I do believe you were correct before in thinking the fireplaces were the best option for safe and quick delivery of the children," she said, tapping the phoenix to begin their ride back down to the school's level. "I can get notes for each of them to take with them, but here's where you come in Ms. Granger. What exactly should they say?"

Hermione breathed deeply, knowing that a simple, quick answer would be best. "I would just put on the note that the families are to stay inside until further notice from the Ministry of Magic, and to await instructions."

McGonagall broke stride only long enough for Hermione to see the worry cross her face, but in the next instant it was gone, replaced with a look of stern resolution.

"You have quite a bit of explaining to do once the students are seen off," McGonagall said, and Hermione suddenly felt as if she was eleven years old once again, stuck in the bathroom with a troll on Halloween.

"Yes, miss," she said, struggling to keep up with the formidable woman.

Once the last of the students were safely transported home to their families, McGonagall called the entire staff into the Great Hall to listen to Hermione and Ron. Hermione let Ron do most of the talking, seeing as how he knew much more about the intricate details of the months of investigations.

When he had finished, the looks on the faces of those who surrounded him varied between resolution and disbelief.

"How do you know they will attack now?" asked Snape, his lip curling in defiance. Despite his invaluable efforts during the war, he had never come around to completely liking, or trusting any of Harry Potter's cohorts. Ron met his gaze levelly, though, as if realizing that he was now speaking to an equal.

"I don't know for sure, but the woman who was attacked was only let go this morning. Death Eaters don't usually wait around to celebrate and then continue their murderous spree. Besides," he added, "she was let go to give us the warning. They are taunting us, and the game would be so much more fun if innocent children were to die. I'm thinking that they didn't count on us figuring things out right away."

"They didn't count on you figuring it out right away," Hermione said, giving credit where credit was due. Ron smiled at her, and Snape sneered at the two of them.

"If you two are quite finished playing at puppy love, maybe you can explain to us what your next brilliant step is," he snapped, gesturing around the table. "As you can see, we number twelve in all."

Just then, as if knowing exactly when to arrive to make Snape look foolish, the doors to the Great Hall opened and Harry led quite an impressive group of Aurors and ministry officials into the room.

Ron smiled, waving his hand at the incoming crowd. "I believe we number much more than that, Severus."

Hermione turned away to hide the smile that crossed her face at Ron's pointed use of Snape's first name. The smile didn't remain long, however, when her gaze locked on something near the doors. "Look," she said to Ron in a small voice, pointing toward the end of the crowd. "It's your brothers and your parents."

Ron stiffened visibly. The last thing he wanted was his whole family in this place, at this time. He knew it was useless to worry about it, though, seeing as how they were all there for the first war…there was no way they would be absent at this one.

"And Tonks, Shacklebolt, Moony…" Hermione said in awe, her eyes sweeping over the entire remaining group of the original Order.

Once Harry had reached the head table, the members behind him began to fan out, speaking to the teachers in low tones. Ron went over to Harry and Ginny, his eyes full of appreciation.

"I guess you two did some serious convincing," he said, smiling slowly. "We've got to outnumber them at least two to one now."

Harry sighed deeply at Ron's words. "We're going to need it. I forgot how big and spread out this place was."

"So what's the plan?" Ron asked, noticing that the Aurors were conducting a thorough sweep of the room without appearing to move at all.

"Well, Knightly is the Head Auror in my department. People seem to be following his lead. Let's just see what he has to say," Harry suggested, and they all took seats at the nearest table. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley joined them, sitting very close to Ron and Ginny. The twins flanked either side of Hermione, and Bill, Charlie and Fleur surrounded Harry.

Sure enough, Knightly conferred with McGonagall for a while, then addressed the entire group. "From all the intelligence that we were able to gather, the Death Eaters will be on the move shortly. Now that the students are safely removed from the premises, we don't have to concern ourselves with wayward spells or protection and diversions. No doubt the Death Eaters will immediately realize that half their plan is already ruined…to destroy young, innocent lives…but they will regroup and attack whomever they feel is still in the school. Be prepared for division among their ranks. They all know the layout of the school, and where they may lure you. My suggestion would be to contain as much as possible to the ground floor, that way we will be in constant contact with each other."

He paused, looking around at the faces patiently watching him. "I know I don't have to stress to you how important it is that we stop them once and for all. We were foolish enough the first time to allow minor things to fall through the cracks. There will be none of that this time." His voice carried through the hall, deep and penetrating. The look of pure resolve on his face was so fierce, so intimidating, that Ron wondered if the Death Eaters knew what they were getting themselves into.

"Now, I think the best bet would be to post at all the entrances of the school, in large groups, and if there is any sign of them, notify everyone at once. Understood?"

There were many cries of affirmations as people began dispersing throughout the first floor of the school.

Ron didn't have a watch on, but it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes before he heard a loud, booming voice, amplified by the Sonorus charm, shake the stones of the castle.

"They've entered the school through the Astronomy Tower! Top floor!"

There was such a rumble of commotion for the first few seconds after the announcement that Ron's whole body pulsed. In the next instant, however, his instincts took over and he began to run for the staircase, Hermione close behind him.

Another loud voice. "They're breaking through the windows in the West Wing!"

Ron turned and saw half his family stop and change direction. Suddenly a fear unlike he'd ever known grabbed him. "If we get separated for too long, meet in the Great Hall after it's over!" he yelled out, and once he saw them all acknowledge him, he turned and started taking the stairs two at a time, Hermione, Harry and Ginny right behind him.

* * *

Ginny could hear the shouts coming from what seemed like all directions around her when they reached the third floor landing. She twisted this way and that, but all she could see were sparks shooting diagonally every which way.

"Over there!" she heard Hermione shout, and she turned to see McGonagall struggling bodily with a man twice her size. Her wand was on the floor near her feet, but the man had a hold of her wrists. Three more Death Eaters were coming closer to join in, wands raised, ready for action.

Hermione sprinted toward them, Ron following closely. Ginny moved to act as well, but at the same moment, a loud bang exploded right behind her, and she swung around quickly to see Harry doubled up and coughing. "Are you alright?" she yelled over the noise of the settling debris. Half the wall behind him was missing.

"Yeah, but where did it come from?" he asked, peering around through the rising dust.

Not a moment later, large ropes wound their way around Harry's torso, and he disappeared swiftly back through the now-gaping hole in the wall.

"Harry!" she screamed, pausing only long enough to grab his wand from where it fell, before running blindly through the darkness of the hole. She couldn't see where she was going, but it didn't matter. She could hear a loud, screeching laugh from somewhere straight in front of her, and she followed it quickly. Her only thoughts were on Harry, praying that he was alright.

There was a stream of light ahead of her and she went toward it relentlessly until the dust cleared and she found herself in the trophy room. Harry was on his knees in the middle of the room, glaring up at Bellatrix Lestrange.

The foul woman had her wand pointed directly at Harry's heart, but she did not look as if she was going to act any time soon. Ginny tried to sneak into the room quietly, but there was too much debris on the floor. Bellatrix didn't take her wand off of Harry, though, as she addressed Ginny.

"Lower your wand, you silly girl. Even if you could curse me, it would only take a second to end his life." Her words were cold, calm and calculated, and they made Ginny's heart pound painfully against her ribcage. Still, she didn't lower her wand.

Harry's eyes held a fire in them she had never seen before. "You murderous piece of filth, do you really think that killing me is going to put an end to all this? There are fifty people waiting to kill you, and you won't escape death this time."

Ginny silently prayed for Harry to shut up, but apparently, he wasn't hearing her mental messages. "So I would suggest you do what you came here to do, which is kill me, so you can go out and meet your own death that much quicker."

Bellatrix laughed in such a cold, detached way that it made Ginny's hand shake from ten feet away.

"I will never understand how you defeated the greatest wizard of all time, Potter. You are so unbelievably ignorant and yet here you are. I'm not going to kill you." Her eyes strayed over to Ginny.

"I'm going to kill her."

"NO!" Harry shouted, straining against his bindings with every ounce of strength he possessed. "I'm the one you want!"

"Too simple," Bellatrix said quietly, her eyes locked with Ginny's. "I don't necessarily want you dead. I want you to suffer."

Harry moaned mournfully, almost knocking himself over with the strength of his struggle. "Please…please…"

Ginny's eyes couldn't see anything but Bellatrix, standing before her with murder in her eyes. She would not go out this way. She would not die in front of Harry, hearing him beg for her life.

She began to back out of the room, thinking that it was the only plausible scenario at the present time. Bellatrix would either try to curse Harry, which she could try and stop, or she would abandon Harry and chase after her.

The plan, however, came to an abrupt halt when she backed into something solid and watched as a hand snatched her wand away. She felt Harry's wand being removed from her waistband, and heard them crash down somewhere across the room.

"I told you I'd see you again."

Ginny's eyes slid closed as Malfoy's breath hit the side of her face. She wanted to haul off and slug him, but now they were utterly defenseless and at the hands of two insane criminals. She had to keep her wits about her.

"Draco, so glad you could join us," Bellatrix sneered. "You're just in time to see me kill Mr. Potter's lady love, right in front of his very eyes."

Harry began to pant from the exertion of trying to break his bindings. "I'm going to kill you, Bellatrix," he snarled, shooting daggers at her from where he knelt.

"Maybe so," she said in a sing-song voice. "But not before your life comes crashing down around you."

"Enough," Malfoy yelled, moving Ginny closer to Harry. Ginny was glad for that, at least. If she was going to die, she wanted to be able to touch Harry one last time. As he forced her to her own knees, Harry tried to move himself in front of her. She put her hands out and stopped him, and at her touch, all the fight left Harry. He shifted his body so he was facing her, and the unbelievable sadness and regret in his eyes was almost her undoing.

She would not cry in front of these monsters. She reached out and touched his cheek, only to feel the muscles in his jaw clenching tightly. His eyes held hers. Neither looked away.

"How very touching," Malfoy spat, raising his own wand. "Bellatrix, I told you that you could have Potter. Weasley is mine."

"Very well Draco," Bellatrix said, sounding almost bored. "But do get on with things. I'm not going to kill him until she is dead. I want him to have his fill of looking on her lifeless body for as long as possible."

Ginny knew that this was the last moment she would spend on this Earth, and she wasn't going to deny herself one last kiss from the man she loved, had loved, since she was a little girl. She leaned forward quickly and captured his mouth with hers, and kissed him with every ounce of love she had within her. She could feel a warmth spreading through her as if she were on fire, and oddly enough, the sensation made her feel illogically calm despite the dire circumstances.

A moment later Malfoy kicked them apart, spewing dark words of hate at her, sending her sprawling away from Harry. She could no longer feel the heat from his body next to hers.

He approached her with deliberate slowness, savoring the moment in his sick, twisted mind. "Say goodbye," he said coldly, raising his wand until it was directly pointed at her heart.

"AVADA…"

"NO!" She heard Harry scream out. "ANDILIUS MORTEGO!"

"KEDAVRA!"

Ginny's eyes were blinded by an explosion of color right before her face. Brilliant red sparks shattered into a million pieces as they collided with a sphere of blue.

The next few moments happened so fast that she didn't know if they were real or not. She was knocked backward so hard that she slammed against the opposite wall, falling very near the wands Malfoy had discarded earlier. She glanced first at Harry, who swayed on his knees before crashing to the floor where he lay, unmoving. She quickly looked over to Malfoy and Bellatrix, who were also on the ground, wandless, and bleeding from scrapes on their faces. Bellatrix also had a large gash across her stomach. Neither seemed to be able to move, whether out of fear, surprise or injury, Ginny couldn't be sure, but she only had mere seconds to act.

She struggled to her feet, grabbing her wand as she moved, and pointed it at Bellatrix first. "Petrificus Totalus!" she yelled, only waiting long enough to watch Bellatrix sieze up and fall backward rigidly before repeating the hex on Malfoy.

Ginny almost couldn't bring herself to look down at Harry. If he was dead…

What had he said to get the killing curse deflected off of her like that? He didn't even have his wand. Then again, she had always known that Harry was more powerful than he realized. Wandless magic was only ever performed by the strongest of wizards, for the purest of intentions. He had saved her, and if he was dead, she didn't know what she would do.

"Harry?" she whispered, sinking to the ground next to him. "Harry, can you hear me? If you can hear me, wake up," she pleaded softly, brushing the hair off his forehead. "Harry…come on, love, we have to get moving. The others will be wondering where we are."

Harry remained motionless, and Ginny's eyes began to sting. "Harry!" she said, more forcefully, shaking his shoulders. "Get up!" She didn't realize she was sobbing until she heard noises coming from behind her. She whirled around, grabbing Harry into her lap as if to protect him, and through her tears she could see Fred and George making their way through the hole.

"Ginny!" Fred exclaimed, starting to rush toward her. He stopped short, however, when he saw Harry lying there in her arms.

"Is he…" George asked quietly, standing rooted to the spot. He couldn't seem to tear his own eyes away from the sight before him.

Ginny shook her head. "I don't know. Help me…"

Fred and George sprung to action at her softly pleading words. Fred made sure Malfoy and Bellatrix were completely secured as George went over to her. He felt for Harry's pulse, but grunted in frustration a moment later.

"My damn hand's shaking too much," he swore.

"We need to get him to the hospital," Fred said, dragging Ginny to her feet against her will. "Things are clear. They're all gone, Ginny," he said, as if the information could make everything better. She nodded mutely, unable to see past the haze in front of her eyes.

Seconds later, Fred was controlling Bellatrix and Malfoy as he magically guided them down the staircase to the first floor, where Aurors immediately took them into custody. Bodies were lying all along the foyer, but upon first glance, they seemed to be mostly Death Eaters.

George was controlling Harry carefully, stepping over debris as he guided him into the Great Hall. The Aurors all stopped what they were doing, and looked mournfully on as the doors slid closed behind them.

The first thing Ginny heard when she entered the Great Hall was her mother's voice crying her name. After that, it was all pretty much a blur until Hermione's voice broke in, loud and clear.

"We need to get him to St. Mungo's now," she said, taking charge of Harry's condition. Ginny couldn't believe her ears. Hermione made it sound as if -

"He's," she whispered, finally finding her voice, "he's alive?"

Hermione's eyes flashed quickly, but the meaning was still clear. Harry was alive, for now, but for how much longer…

"Bring him over to the grate," Hermione barked, following closely behind Bill and Charlie as the carried Harry to the spot where she had pointed. "I'm going to floo ahead with him and get things started. I'll see you all over there."

Ron reached out for her hand quickly, grabbing it tightly within his. His face was eerily still as he looked first at Hermione, then down at Harry's unconscious form. Hermione nodded, apparently understanding whatever it was that Ron was trying to convey to her, and with a shout and a large pop, they were gone.

* * *

_Well, that's the battle scene. A bit different than I had planned, but once I started, I realized I couldn't do what it was that I wanted to do. Too many characters, too many points of view. I was going to bring Lupin into things, and Neville, even, but it would have gone on forever, and that seemed like a completely different story to me. Maybe if I write another one, I'll get to write what I had originally thought._

_I was pleased with most of it, however, but realized yet again how hard it is to write in multi-character. Having to deal with all of the Weasleys, McGonagall, the Aurors, the Order, the four main characters, the teachers…it was too much. I found myself wondering what everyone else was up to, and it completely overwhelmed me. I had to limit it, for my own sake, so I hope you can forgive me. _

_If I didn't do it this way, there would have been five more chapters to this, and I'm going to be done by Friday so we can all read the book this weekend. You guys probably won't be reading much else, if you're like me, so you won't hear from me for a week or two. Then, I'll be back, with a shorter fic centered on Ron and Hermione alone, most likely. I don't know. I have about three ideas for stories in my head._

_As always, thank you for your unfailing support and critiques. Please feel free to let me know what your thoughts were on the battle. _

_Stay tuned…the last chapter coming soon._


	24. Anywhere but in Between

**Anywhere but in Between**

_I only own the plot._

_Okay, folks, here it is. The End. Just in time, too, for us to enjoy the real thing (HP&HBP!)._

_Suckr4romance-I'm glad I almost had you convinced Harry was dead. I didn't know if it would be believable or not!_

_AngelicOne-I LOVED writing that scene with H/G…I just see them as having this intense, romantic love…_

_Ffaddix-I can't tell you how much it pleased me to see your review. George's line was my absolute favorite of the last ten chapters or so. I wrote it and was like, damn…Great minds think alike!_

_Lostinwonderland-They DID go down pretty easily, didn't they! LOL. It was three in the morning and I was like, ah, hell, just die already so we can get on with things. I know, a major cop out, but what can I say…I'm allowed at least one…_

_I'm not going to spout off about how much you all have meant to me during this writing process, because it would take ten pages itself. Just know that without your support I would have given up on this a while ago. Every review spurred me on and made me push myself to be better. So thank you._

_Keep an eye out for me! I got lots more goodies to come in a few weeks, after we've all read the sixth book about a zillion times! I wish there was a way we could all talk to each other about it after we've read it…(I hate the HP chat rooms though. Immature children talking about anything but.) I might have to write a really stupid five line story and you guys can post reviews to it in the form of conversations about how you felt about the book. That would be funny!_

_Okay, so (sniff, sniff) here we go, for the last time…_

**Chapter 24 – Anywhere but in Between**

"Harry…"

He felt as if he was moving slowly through a thick fog, stumbling, reaching for something that was just beyond his grasp. Noises rushed all around him, blurring into the scenery, becoming a part of it long enough to cut through his mind.

"Harry…"

A flutter of eyelids, painful – moving his arms to grab whatever was out there.

"That's it, Harry, now just open your eyes."

Hermione. It was her voice he was hearing, and that was a good thing. Hermione had always looked out for him, even when he didn't want her to. If she was here, he was alright.

He blinked, feeling his eyes burn at the slight movement, but he didn't want to sit in that fog any longer. He needed to escape the visions of his past, once and for all.

His eyes finally opened completely, but the world was one big blur. He could see the outline of Hermione's face, but beyond that, nothing. She seemed to read his mind, as she always did, and placed his glasses on his nose.

Once she was in focus, he could see the strain etched in her face. She looked as if she hadn't slept in weeks, if the dark circles under her eyes were any indication.

"Hey," she said softly, handing him a glass of water with a straw. He took it from her gladly, feeling the cool liquid almost burn a path down his parched throat.

"Where am I?" he asked, coughing a bit at the energy it took to form the simple question.

"You're in St. Mungo's," she replied, busying herself by straightening his bed sheets. "You've been unconscious for about a day."

Suddenly, everything came rushing back to him and he tried to sit up. The effort nearly winded him, but he had to know what was going on. "Ginny –"

"Is fine," Hermione consoled, pushing him back down. "As is everyone else. There were only two casualties from our side. A man named Martin from your department and a higher official in the ministry…I don't know his name."

Harry sighed deeply, allowing the news to fully wash over him. "What happened?" he asked, trying desperately to piece together the events that occurred after being trapped in the room with Ginny.

"If I start from the beginning, do you promise not to interrupt or move around? You're supposed to be resting…doctor's orders," she said, pointing to herself.

He nodded, and she settled herself on the side of his bed to fill in any gaps she could. As he listened, he couldn't believe how quickly they had overcome the Death Eaters this time around. When he said as much, Hermione shrugged.

"I count that as the one blessing that came out of this," she said resolutely. "I just don't think they knew what they were getting themselves into this time. Besides, how successful could they have been with Malfoy leading the charge?"

"What happened to him? And Bellatrix? Did all of the Death Eaters –"

"Harry, you said you weren't going to interrupt. I'll tell you everything I can, I promise. Besides, I have some questions of my own when I'm finished, so save your strength for answering them," she chided.

He grimaced at her, but went silent. Seemingly satisfied, she continued. "Well, after we secured the floors we headed down to the Great Hall. It's where Ron told everyone to go if we were separated, remember? We were only there a few minutes, but in that time, Knightly told us that the Aurors were going to transport the Death Eaters – yes, that includes Malfoy and Bellatrix – to the headquarters where Dementors were waiting to administer the kiss to them all." Here, she paused. Her eyes held Harry's evenly as she continued in a level voice. "Except Bellatrix. She was scheduled to be executed for crimes against the people."

Harry's eyes slid closed and he felt an overwhelming relief sweep over him. He had assumed, once, that he was not capable of wishing anyone dead, but he had been wrong. There were now two people whom he was not in the least sorry to see be put to death.

"Everyone is alright, Harry. The Weasleys, Lupin, Tonks, all the teachers…it's a miracle, but everyone is just fine. The Death Eaters have been destroyed, and the only thing that has kept everyone from celebrating is you lying in this hospital bed," she said, a small smile on her face.

Harry shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. His vision was completely clear now, but there was a dull ache around his ribs and abdomen. He brought his hand to his chest, and Hermione noticed the action.

"As for what happened to you, that's where I have some questions, but I'll tell you as much as I know first," she said, fixing his pillow so he could feel some relief in his midsection. "You were taken into the trophy room at Hogwarts and Ginny went after you. She said that Bellatrix had you tied up in enchanted ropes that you were struggling against. Hence, the bruising of your ribcage," she said, with a slightly disapproving look. "Anyway, Ginny said that Malfoy came along shortly after and was about to perform the killing curse on her when you shouted something that surrounded her with a shield of some sort."

Harry's chest began to hurt even more when he remembered the situation he had found himself facing in that room. He had come so close to losing Ginny, and he had never told her how he felt about her. It had been the most horrific moment of his life watching Malfoy's wand pointed directly at her heart. In that one blinding second, Harry had seen everything his life should have been, and wouldn't be, if Ginny were to die.

"Harry," Hermione said, breaking into his thoughts. "How on Earth did you know to perform the Mortego spell?"

He looked at her in surprise. "How did you know…?"

"There is only one thing that has ever stopped someone from dying at the hand of the killing curse. It's the deepest, most pure magic there is. The Mortego spell is probably what your own mother used on you when you were a baby," she explained quietly.

Harry sighed deeply, feeling the pain in his lungs as he did so. Wincing slightly, he shrugged. "Dumbledore told me about it when we were in seventh year," he said. "I guess by then he knew that half-truths and simple explanations weren't going to cut it with me anymore."

"But you didn't use a wand. Ginny said yours was at least ten feet away when you performed the spell," she said, raising her eyebrow in awe.

"Dumbledore said that it was such a distant, old form of magic that it didn't require wands," he said, shrugging again. "I guess I was so desperate to keep her safe that I didn't have time to think about what to do. I just did it."

Hermione's eyes grew bright for a moment, but she blinked rapidly and it was gone. "Harry, that spell is so complex that it binds together the two being protected. You split the curse so it would fall onto you."

"So why am I still alive?" he asked, thinking back to his mother. "If my mum performed the same spell when I was a baby, why didn't she survive, too?"

Hermione smiled softly. "Well, first, you were just a baby. You weren't big enough or aware enough to split the curse with your mother. Also, it was before any cognition or reciprocity on your part."

"Do you mind putting it in English, please?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"When we're babies, we don't feel love. We don't feel anything really. We have needs, and yes, we know our mothers and fathers when they hold us or enter a room, but babies are incapable of acknowledging or returning feelings of love," she explained patiently.

"So when my mum deflected the curse, she died because I didn't love her enough?" he asked incredulously, his eyes narrowing at her.

She sighed in frustration. "No, Harry, you're missing the point. You were physically incapable of splitting the curse with her. She must have spoken the same words, put some sort of protective shield over you to deflect the curse onto herself, but some of it did get through to you. You got that scar, didn't you?" she asked, pointing at his head.

Harry's head swam in confusion. He still didn't understand what he was doing here when his mother had died performing the same spell.

Once again, Hermione didn't disappoint him. She read his thoughts as clearly as if he had spoken them aloud.

"Don't you get it? When you said the spell, you protected Ginny by deflecting the curse, sharing it with her. You didn't die because she is more than capable of expressing her love for you. You shared the curse equally because you share your love equally. You didn't die because just like you took half the curse for her, she took half for you."

So, as much as he may have saved Ginny, it was really Ginny who had saved him. By loving him, she had kept them both safe. His chest began to hurt again, but this time it had nothing to do with his wounds. He loved her, and more than anything at this moment, he wanted to see her.

"Is she okay?" he asked.

"She's fine," Hermione replied softly. "I checked her out myself. A bit banged up, but we all are. The only thing she got from the curse was a scar of her own, on the back of her left shoulder. She must have been turning toward you when the curse splintered the shield."

"Can I see her?"

"Of course. She's been at me all day to let her in, and seeing as how I'm the doctor, I can allow anything I want," she said, grinning at him.

As she got up off the bed, Harry reached out and grabbed her hand. "Hermione, thanks," he said. "Thanks for always taking such good care of me."

Hermione squeezed his hand, and laughed. "It's what friends do. I just wish you wouldn't make it a side-career of mine. I have plenty to be getting on with as it is."

Harry grunted, wincing at the repeated pain in his chest. Hermione laughed again and released his hand. "I'm warning you, Potter. No unnecessary movement," she said, waggling her eyebrows at him as she walked backward out the door.

A few moments later, the door opened again, and Harry watched silently as Ginny entered the room. Her long hair was disheveled and dirty, there were scratches on her pale cheeks, and she was walking with a slight limp.

Harry had never seen her look more beautiful.

She walked directly up to the side of his bed, and without so much as a word, ducked her head and pressed her lips against his gently. If there had been any doubt in Harry's mind before that he was indeed alive and well, it was gone now. He could feel the light caress of her kiss through every aching muscle in his body.

She broke away from him and sat on the edge of his bed, holding his face in her hands. "Don't ever do that to me again," she said softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

He nodded mutely, not taking his eyes off of hers for even a second.

"If you hadn't…Malfoy would have killed me," she said, letting her hands trail down to rest in his. "You saved me."

Remembering Hermione's words, he laced his fingers with hers. "You saved me, too."

"I guess we saved each other, then," she said, laughing quietly. Harry smiled at the sound. He knew he'd do anything in his power to hear it every day for the rest of his life.

"Ginny, months ago you told me you loved me, and I never told you back," he said. He tried to push up to a sitting position, but Ginny held him down and gave him a look.

"You didn't need to. The spell wouldn't have worked if you didn't love me like I love you," she explained softly.

"But I want to say it –"

"It's not the words that are important, Harry –"

"Yes, they are –"

"It's the actions, and you have –"

"Would you just let me say it?" he said forcefully, wincing a bit at the pain it caused him. Ginny fell silent at his insistent tone, and then she smiled.

"Go ahead."

Harry groaned inwardly. This wasn't how he had pictured this going. He wanted it to be romantic and sweet, not a declaration of love professed on the heels of his practically demanding that she stop talking.

"Well, now it's ruined," he said sullenly. "I mean, really, what sort of bloke yells at the woman he loves to be quiet so he can tell her that he loves her?"

Ginny burst out laughing at his expression. "Well, it's definitely not the stuff greeting cards are made of," she said, barely audible through her laughter.

Harry couldn't help it. As always, when Ginny laughed, it was infectious. He grinned at her and reached out to tug her down onto the bed with him.

"No, no," she said, trying to catch her breath. "Dr. Granger said no unnecessary movement."

Harry pulled harder, until she was lying next to him on his bed. "I would consider this very necessary."

They lay together, his arms around her as she laughed. She turned in his arms so they were face to face, and her laughter died down. Their eyes held each other's steadily as she put a light hand against his chest.

"Does it hurt much?" she asked, moving her hand slowly as if she could take the aches away.

"No," he said, feeling her hand trace soft patterns over his ribcage. "Does this?"

His hand crept up her back to her left shoulder, where the shirt had been torn away from her shoulder. His fingers felt the indentation of the scar there, and she smiled at him.

"No. I guess we can consider it a matching set," she said, her eyes flickering up to his forehead.

"You know, Hermione said that the spell binds the two people together who were being protected," he said, his voice as slow as her hands on his chest.

"Looks like you're stuck with me, Potter," she said softly, smiling up at him.

"I love you, Ginny," he said, before something else could come along and ruin it.

"I love you, too," she replied quietly, leaning in to meet his kiss halfway. Then she pulled back, a playful grin on her face.

"You know, I think I liked it better when you were telling me to shut up," she said. "Much more our style."

"Really?" he said, giving her a look. "So instead of me telling you that I love you every day, you want me to tell you to shut up?"

"Sure," she retorted, still grinning. "Why not break from tradition?"

"Alright, then. Shut up, Ginny," he said, causing her to break out in a fit of laughter. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."

"Wow, I think that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," she said, her eyes shining into his. "In fact, I can't wait to tell my parents that today, you told me to shut up and it made me so happy –"

"Ginny?"

"Yeah?" she said, wiping at her eyes.

"Shut up." Before she could begin laughing again, Harry lowered his head and captured her mouth in a kiss that left no doubt in either of their minds that even if the spell hadn't bound them to each other, their love did.

* * *

Ron cast a look at the door to Harry's room. He could hear Harry and Ginny laughing loudly behind it, then in the next instant, silence. He shook his head.

"Nutters, they are. Both of them," he mumbled to himself. He sank further into the chair across the hall from the room, knowing that it would probably be a good, long while before Ginny let him have his visit with his best mate.

The rest of his family was crowded into the main waiting room upon Hermione's orders that Harry could only have one visitor at a time. She was still busy checking them all out anyway, not trusting it to any of the other healers actually on duty. It was almost as if she wouldn't believe they were all fine unless she saw it for her own eyes.

Just then, she came out of one of the examination rooms with Fleur. Ron immediately rose to his feet when he saw the tears on Fleur's cheeks.

"What is it?" he asked in alarm. "Are you okay?"

Hermione and Fleur shared a look, and Fleur laughed through her tears. "I'm fine, Ron. I just have to find my husband."

Ron watched her walk past him before turning in confusion to Hermione. "What's going on?"

Hermione simply grabbed his hand and began following Fleur down the hall, smiling in such a soft way that he wanted to pull her into a corner and kiss her until she couldn't stand up any longer.

When they reached the waiting area, Bill was standing in front of Fleur, demanding to know why she was crying. Ron had never seen his brother look so scared in his entire life.

Fleur was shaking her head, trying to speak, but she began crying even harder. She looked back at Hermione, helplessly.

Hermione smiled reassuringly at Bill, her own eyes bright. "You're going to be a father, Bill."

Ron was quite sure that they would be kicked out of the hospital at any moment after all was said and done. There was such an uproar of congratulations and well-done's that it sounded as if they were throwing their own private party right there on the ward.

His mother started bawling so hard that Fred had to guide her into a seat so she could collect herself. Mr. Weasley was pumping Bill's hand, and George and Charlie were trying to guide Fleur into a seat of her own.

Ron joined his family, embracing his brother who was now shaking like a leaf. When he released him, Bill turned sharply to Hermione and croaked out, "Tonight…after all that…the baby, Fleur…they're fine?"

Hermione smiled softly at Bill. "Perfectly fine."

Bill seemed to deflate with relief as he went to sit next to his wife. He took her in his arms, and the two remained in each other's embrace for a very long while. Then Fred yelled out, "I hope it's a girl!" and Ron had to recant his earlier statement. He had never seen Bill look _this_ scared in his entire life.

Ron turned to Hermione, who was watching the joyous scene with a look of utter serenity on her face. He reached down for her hand, and when their fingers met, she turned to look at him. He pulled her away with him, suddenly wanting to be alone with her more than anything in the world.

He found a quiet, secluded corner and pulled her into his arms. "You're amazing, you know that?" he said quietly, trailing kisses down her jawline.

She laughed softly. "I didn't do anything. Fleur isthe one who's pregnant."

His arms tightened around her, holding her as close to him as he could. "Everything, this whole night…Harry's okay, my sister, the baby…" his voice failed him and the smile left her face. Her hand reached up to cradle his cheek as her eyes grew serious.

"You're the one who did it," she said quietly. "You figured out how to save us all. All the students, their families, they all owe you their lives. I've never been more proud of you."

He exhaled a long breath and turned his face to kiss the inside of her palm. "You know, tonight, when you went to help McGonagall, I had this split second where I was transported back to the fight three years ago at the ministry," he said. "Watching you run off to fight, wondering if that was the last time I'd see you alive…"

"Ron –"

"No, let me finish," he said, and she fell silent. "Back then, that night, I realized I loved you, how much I needed you in my life, and I never said anything. I waited, and for years I was in this in between place where in my mind I was more than your friend, but less than I wanted to be. Now that we're here," he said, taking a long, steadying breath, "I realize that it's like that night all over again."

Her face clouded in confusion. "I don't understand. We're fine, we're here together…"

"I watched you run off again tonight, knowing that you knew I loved you, but not that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you," he said, his voice shaking despite his best efforts. "I'm in that place again because I'm your boyfriend, but I want to be more."

The confusion in Hermione's eyes was replaced with a look of understanding. The softest, mostamazing smile crossed her face, nearly taking all his remaining breath from his body.

"Someday you will be," she said in a low voice, stroking his cheek gently.

Their lips found each other's in a soft kiss, full of memories of the past and a promise for the future. It wasn't enough for them after a while, however, as they deepened their kiss to the point where neither was standing solely on their own any longer. They were leaning on each other, drawing strength from the otheras they had always done.

Hermione broke away to catch her breath, and took hold of his hand.

"You know, I just realized something," she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "I never gave you your examination." His eyes met hers and he smiled, wondering how on Earth he had ever gotten on without her.

As she led him down the hall to the most remote, most secluded examining room, he realized that now, he would never have to wonder again. They were still young, but someday…she would be his wife, he would be her husband, and they would have a family of their own.

Someday…

* * *

_**Aaaannnnddd….Finite!**_

_**I hope I fulfilled my fluff duties with this chapter, leaving a good feeling in the hearts of all my readers. I actually like the way this turned out. I was toying around with the idea of a proposal at the end, but if I'm true to my story they are only around 21 or so. I thought that a bit young, although it seems that in the wizarding world people have their children much younger. Still, Hermione and Ron have quite a few years of hot passion still to discover before the kids start coming…**_

_**Well, that's it. Kind of sad, actually, but at least it's going to be out there forever in a way. Kind of happy, too, because I just got the most brilliant idea for another story, and I can't wait to start working on it.**_

_**I don't want to say goodbye, so I'll just say, See Ya 'Round.**_

_**I truly hope that this story finds everyone happy, and healthy. Thanks again.**_


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